


The Gang Goes OOC

by cxhztile (orphan_account)



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Dancing, Dreams and Nightmares, Drugs, Emotional Baggage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff, Haunted Houses, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Menstruation, Morning Routines, Multi, Mutual Pining, NSFWish, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Protectiveness, Rat Bashing, Reading, Secret Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, Tending to Wounds, Theft, Trans Charlie Kelly, Transphobia, a & e au, going to war au, parents meeting while taking kids to school au, sunny christmas special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 26,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cxhztile
Summary: Collection of IASIP drabbles I wrote based on prompts dropped into my askbox(Warning: some get pretty weird and/or out of character)
Relationships: Charlie Kelly/Dennis Reynolds, Charlie Kelly/Mac McDonald, Charlie Kelly/Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds, Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	1. Rat Murder Party

**Author's Note:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> “this isnt kinky. this is murder” charmac ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:   
> “this isnt kinky. this is murder” charmac ?

“Hey Charlie,” Mac weakly called, gently knocking on the basement door, probably not loud enough over the grunting and clang of metal against the concrete floor, “Can I come down there?” 

He went several minute without hearing a response and only more sounds of what was presumably rat bashing intensified to an 11 rather than a 5. Deciding Charlie still wouldn’t hear him if he called out again, he decided to go investigate for himself. He opened the door and gently closing it behind him, careful to not let it slam and have it startle Charlie, as if his heavy boots against the stairs wouldn’t already be enough to do that. He managed to get halfway down the flight before he paused and scanned over what he guessed to be a massacre.

He always knew they had a rat problem but this was just insane. At least a hundred or more of their little carcasses where strewn on the floor, more or less placed in a pile or two. There were rats of varying sizes and colors everywhere and the somewhat designated piles were either dependent on where they managed to land after being thrown or based on the amount of blood coating their fur. 

There was one last bash (loud enough to make Mac cover his ears for a second towards the end of the crashing of the rat stick through another rat skull and subsequently the floor) before Charlie turned to face him, tongue slipped between his lips from where it had been poking out in concentration. There was bits of blood spattered on him, most notably on his worn out sneakers, creeping up his jeans that were also quite worn, and his hands. Somehow, a few drops had flown up high enough to get caught on his cheek and the tip of his nose. He still stared ever so blankly as Mac raised his eyebrows and tilted his head down a bit to simulate one of Dennis’ “what do you think you’re doing” faces. 

“Charlie-” He started to question in a low tone, one hand on the stair railing and one propped on his hip, weight unevenly distributed between said hips to feign a somewhat sassy stance. 

“I can.. I can explain!” Charlie interrupted, sputtering a little halfway through, lowering his nail embedded stick.

“Yeah. You’d better.” Mac tapped his foot a little as he said this, hoping for a quick, to the point explanation where he wouldn’t lose his attention span a quarter of the way in. 

“I, uh, was trying to plan something. Something nice, I swear!” Charlie was clearly beating around the bush already, despite his defensive tone. 

“What in the hell can be nice if it involves bashing a shit ton of rats?” Mac interrogated, taking the hand off his hip to start rubbing his temple. 

“Well, I thought maybe we could use them for… something. If not, I could, like, patch them together like a bear skin rug or something. Do, uh, things… On that.” Charlie looked down, not meeting Mac’s eye as he tapped his foot and leaned on the handle of the bat. 

“Charlie, that is disgusting and you know it. Was this supposed to be like a kink or something? I mean I know you’re gross and all that but Jesus Christ…” This was the point that Mac finally crossed his arms and turned his glare into a disapproving one. 

“I mean, I guess? I guess it was meant to be kinky… Sexy, at least. Or whatever you want to call it… You know what I mean, man!” Charlie flushed and continued averting his eyes, mirroring Mac’s crossed arm gesture. 

“ **That isn’t kinky! That’s murder** , dude! Not sexy in the slightest!” Mac exclaimed, Charlie finally looking up at him with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Can you just… Clean this up and come back up to the bar? And we’ll forget this ever happened?” He continued, sighing. Charlie conceded with a nod and kicked his last victim over to the piles, searching for a bag or something to put them all in in. 

“What the hell does ‘maybe we could use them for _something_ ’ mean?” Mac muttered to himself as he came back up the stairs and stepped behind the bar to start on a beer as he waited for Charlie. 

When Charlie appeared from the basement, he was caked in more blood than before. His hands were coated a deep scarlet and some more drops were spotted on his face, juxtaposing his many freckles by being a richer, darker color. Mac took one look at him and sighed, setting his bottle down to push him towards the guys’ bathroom. When they were almost through the door, Dennis came through the alley door and tilted his head. 

“Ho ho ho. What happened here?” He asked, half expecting an answer. 

“Rat business.” was all Mac chalked it up to before he let the bathroom door slam behind him. 

“Right…” Dennis nodded, not terribly convinced, beginning to eye Mac’s half drunk beer. 

“Alright. Up on the counter.” Mac ordered, Charlie compiling by hopping up onto the edge and scooting back a bit, kicking his feet when he settled. Mac used the right-most sink to dampen two paper towels he folded together and gave him a single look to warn him to stop kicking before bending over to start scrubbing the blood from his shoes. 

Unable to swing his legs, Charlie took to fidgeting his hands, threatening to make an even worse mess of his jeans. Mac caught him in the act when he straightened to get a new round of paper towels and start cleaning the ends of his pant legs. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything and just returned to his silent cleaning act, slowly making his way upwards. He slotted himself between Charlie’s legs, allowing them to kick around him, when it came time to scrub his hands. He hated to admit it but Charlie did have nice hands, even if he used them for disgusting, sometimes nefarious, purposes. 

Halfway through cleaning them, Mac needed more paper towels so he paused for more but got caught up in the way the freckles dotted Charlie’s skin before snapping back to reality and getting the rest of the blood off. Charlie had always been a pretty freckled little kid but Mac had never noticed how much that he had maintained them as he got older. Finally, he made his way up to Charlie’s face, staring at each other quietly for a moment before Charlie fluttered his eyes closed, long dark eyelashes standing out against his skin.

Mac softly inhaled for a moment before dabbing the paper towel wad gingerly over his cheek, just below his right eye. Charlie had finally stopped fidgeting all of his limbs and had folded his hands in his lap, trying not to breath so he could sit as still as possible. Mac finished at his nose and reached over for a dry paper towel to dry off the dampness, cupping his jawline to keep his head in place. 

After Charlie was spotless (well, as spotless as he could manage), he kept his hand on his jaw and hesitated a moment before leaning in. Charlie’s eyes opened to be half lidded before fluttering closed again, one hand on Mac’s jaw and the other arm curling around the back of his neck. In response, Mac’s other hand came to rest on his hip and they stayed like that, lips tightly pressed, for a minute or so. 

Once Mac pulled back, he still maintained the close proximity and rested his forehead on Charlie’s.

“If you want to… do things… Just tell me, okay, and we’ll figure them out together, alright?” He said softly, looking at him hopefully. 

“Yeah, alright… Of course, man.” Charlie chuckled, grinning a small smile. Mac smiled back and kissed his cheek, allowing them to be pressed against each other a minute longer. Then they decided it was best to go join Dennis, Mac helping Charlie off the counter with Charlie’s arms around his neck, still smiling at each other like idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was one of the weird ones. I tried my best


	2. TV Bandit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Macdennis requested Theentiregdtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theentiregdtime's prompt:  
> Macdennis + #24 (You can’t just break into people’s houses and watch their TV, and then complain about their TV.)

Ikea. The wonderful everyday, or as they say.

It was too goddamn hot to be standing outside one of those places when he could have been fifteen minutes away in the comfort of the bar instead. But, _no_. Mac insisted that they needed to go _that_ day to get a new couch (after a failed attempt at a boys’ night and Charlie drunkenly pissing on their couch for what seemed the hundredth time) and maybe some other new furniture if any caught their eye. 

“Told you he’d bail.” Dee half laughed beside him, looking over her sunglasses at him and taking another sip of her fountain drink from when they stopped at Wawa on the way over. Dennis had regretted bringing Dee and Charlie with him the moment they all got in the car but he knew it was better to voluntarily let them come rather than put up with whatever mess they’d make if they snuck around the store to spy on Mac and Dennis.

“No idea why, though. It was his goddamn idea. He’s always pulling shit like this in a desperate attempt to be domestic but I’m just never having it.” He huffed, placing a hand on his hip as he did another scan of the area in hopes of seeing Mac and Frank finally turn up. Of course, they didn’t. 

A few minutes later, his patience finally ran thin. He groaned and gritted his teeth before pulling out his phone, scrolling for Mac’s contact name and hitting the call button. Dee was turned away now and watching Charlie’s face as he gaped at the vast expanse of the store from where he was looking in through the front windows. 

“ _’Yello?_ ” Mac spoke when he answered the other line. There was background noise just barely audible enough to be heard buzzing around his voice. 

“Where the hell are you, man?!” Dennis asked sharply, cutting right to the chase, too fed up for pleasantries. 

“ _Oh. We’re at Rex’s. Say hi, Frank._ ” Mac replied, Frank’s grumble around a mouthful of chips being much louder than Dennis wanted to hear directly in his ear.

“Why are you at Rex’s?! What the hell happened to measuring the living room and then meeting us at the furniture store?” Dennis was trying not to blow his fuse but it was something that had been reoccurring far too often in the past few years. 

“ _Well, you see. We did measure the living room and shit but then on the way to the store, I just happened to point out to Frank that Rex lived on the street we had just turned onto. And for whatever reason, he wanted to go see his apartment, probably to figure out what protein powders and stuff that he uses._

_“Anyway, I couldn’t find the spare key so we picked the lock and noticed he has a fifty-five inch TV in his living room so we’ve been watching baseball for the past hour. It’s not the Phillies but whatever._ ” Mac described, clearly unphased why the consequences of breaking into someone’s home.

“How do you even know where Rex’s apartment is?,” Dennis muttered, smooting his eyebrows, “Actually. Don’t answer that.” 

“ _It’s because– Oh, goddammit, Frank! Stop switching the channel!_ ” Mac exclaimed, Dennis assuming he turned to Frank on the couch by the slight fading in his voice. 

“ _Whaddya mean? It wasn’t me!_ ” Frank protested just loud enough for the phone to pick up. 

“ _The TV’s been cutting to another channel on and off for like fifteen minutes. Sucks ass._ ” Mac sharply exhaled, now directing back to Dennis. 

“Mac, **you can’t just break into someone’s house and watch their TV, then complain about said TV** …” Dennis attempted to explain, doing his best to keep calm despite very much wanting to strangle Mac in that moment. 

“Just… You know what? I’m coming over there.” He continued, finally making up his mind, and straightened his posture. 

“ _Why? I can just get Frank to drive me there. He already was, anyway._ ” Mac interrogated, confused by the action plan. 

“It’s your fault that we have to buy a whole ‘nother couch because you were trying to put together a boys’ night so we could ‘‘be close again’‘ or whatever the hell but you failed miserably and let Charlie drink too much again!

“I don’t give a damn what Frank does with himself while we look at couches! I just need you here so we can find one and get this over with!” Dennis’ near shouting made both Dee and Charlie’s heads swivel towards him, startled by his increased volume. 

There was a very long moment of silence before Mac conceded and told him he’d text the address. Dennis was too frustrated with him by that point to let the call linger so he soon hit the end call button. He looked to the others for a second before walking back to the Range Rover without a word. 

He sat for a few minutes in the driver’s seat to compose himself before even glancing at the address or leaving for it. Mac was _always_ doing this shit. Regardless of how obvious he displayed his feelings, for better or worse, for Dennis, he never sat back to consider Dennis’ feelings. Most of the time it was no consideration for how he’d feel about something or what his wants were, but sometimes there was no thought towards how his heart felt or the hollowness within him.

He just wished Mac would stop putting on such acts of ingenuity, assuming that his desire for closeness and such were only one sided, and just give a genuine shit about him for once. No walls, no masks, no nothing. Just the raging storm authentically connecting to the gaping hole.

But that didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon so he just sighed and made his way out of the parking lot, paying attention to the road yet not at all, too focused on the static yet noiseless feeling in his brain. He nearly missed the apartment building entirely. The only open parking space was a few paces down so he was forced to trek a little but the frustration bubbling back up again increased the speed of his motion tenfold. 

He almost stumbled on the stairs leading to the apartment’s floor but there was no one around to witness it if he did. The apartment itself was quite a ways down the hall but he made it there quickly with the swiftness bound in his legs. The door, handle marred with scratches from whatever they had used to pick its lock (Frank’s toe knife he presumed), was still ajar when he came upon it so he pushed it gently, Mac and Frank slowly turning their heads to look. 

Dennis simply just raised his eyebrows while looking directly at Mac, causing him to pass the bowl of tortilla chips to Frank and make it to his feet by using the coffee table as leverage, making his way to the doorframe. Dennis didn’t bother to move aside so they could walk side by side, instead opting to lead them out, not making conversation.

“Soooo… Should we get another one like we’ve had before or…?” Mac asked, attempting to coax some sort of discussion out of him. The try seemed to inevitably be in vain, Dennis not even daring to make eye contact with him. 

“Dude, I don’t even see why you’re so mad about this…” Mac mumbled, mostly to himself, but surprisingly loud enough to make Dennis’ stomach turn and his throat choke up momentarily. Mac blinked up at him after having kept his eyes cast downwards for a moment, being to grow suspicious of the uncomfortable silence and its tension. 

“Dennis…” He said softly, stopping in his tracks to try to grab Dennis’ elbow with a feather-light touch. Dennis didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture and, within moments, had him pinned to the wall by his collar, glaring directly into his eyes and being pressed close enough for feel his angry, heated exhales against his face. 

After the intimidation factor set in, Dennis released him, growling as he did and slipping back into the harsh reticence that would loiter for the rest of the day. 


	3. Charlie Wants an Abortion (Revised)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> Dennis and Charlie being cute? A throwback to Oi!Oi!Oi maybe? Feels? Or trans (ftm) Charlie (maybe highschool or a bad day at the bar? I don't know but who doesn't love to project). Chill if you want to ignore these prompts but I hope theh give you a jumping off point if not for this then for something else 'cause it sucks when you're amped to write but you don't know what so you just sort of sit there vibrating. (Sorry if I already sent a version of this - closed Tumblr, wasn't sure if it sent)

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

But it was already too late to turn back. He was already near his goal and it was a hell of a walk back to the bar again. Plus, he was already too hyped up on confident energy, rolling through his confrontation speech a thousand times over in his head. 

He was too fed up with what had happened the past few days not to go say something. His hands were in his pockets, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, ignoring the strain of his binder against his chest as his breathing strained a little. He wasn’t overly nervous or anything, just a bit worried how it would actually play out. 

He reached the end of the street to find a group of chairs filled, people who were just above the white trash line occupying them, Jimmy Doyle among them. 

“Hey, Jimmy Doyle.” Charlie scoffed, standing before him, and trying to present himself in an intimidating manner. It was pretty difficult given that he was soft as butter and never hit a significant growth, lowering his potential to appear threatening. 

“Yeah?” Jimmy responded nonchalantly. His eyes told that there was the slightest recognition of the figure before him but just barely. 

“Charlie Kelly,” This seemed to ring no bells so he tried again with, “From high school.” 

Nothing seemed to click and onset panic was starting to buzz in the back of his head, creeping up his chest, knowing the unfortunate thing that he was going to have to do to get any reaction. 

“Ch... Char..lotte... Kelly.” He balled his hands into fists in his pockets to keep from shaking as he feared he’d start doing and glanced away, biting his lip a little.

“Oh!,” Jimmy finally exclaimed smugly, “I almost didn’t recognize you without the the acne and the poor excuse for tits!”

Charlie felt tears already prickling his eyes and his chest flooding with anxiety. He was drained of any confidence and determination he felt, now being replaced by the dreadful feeling of deadnaming one’s self and the flashes of terrible memories. His mind blanked and his first thought was to immediately head back down the street the way he came and pray he found somewhere quiet to break down. 

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at the sudden disappearance of Charlie’s small frame but quickly gave up caring and turned back to his beer. Charlie had taken off the down the street until his legs caved in from beginning to heavily shake, forcing him to sit down and curl in on himself. 

He just wanted to go home. His plan was ruined and all he was left with was the break down starting to gnaw at his insides and nothing he intended getting done. Except, this was a pretty pathetic place to lose his head and a pretty unsafe neighborhood anyway. 

He needed to get home. There he could hide under the covers, maybe behind the couch’s cushions in what he called the crevice. So in a moment of quick association, he pulled out his phone and scrolled with shaking hands down to Dee’s name. 

“’Yelllo?” greeted the voice on the other line, making him realized he hit the wrong number. Between his vagrant shaking and his vision going out as if he was going to pass out (which was highly possible), he scrolled one too far and hit Dennis instead of Dee.

“G-god... G-goddammit...” He muttered, voice barely there, too busy trying to keep his composure to care anymore.

“Charlie? Are you okay? You sound panicked.” Dennis asked, voice backed by some genuine concern surprisingly. 

“H-hey, can you,” Charlie paused to clear his throat, intending to ignore the question, “Can you c-come pick me up?”

“Yeah... Yeah, of course, man. Where are you?” Dennis could be heard leaping up off his and Mac’s couch, stepping away to search for his keys. 

“5th and Cross.”

Dennis nodded to himself, not that Charlie could see, and reassured him everything was alright before hanging up. He was certainly intrigued why Charlie was so freaked out but he knew it would take some coaxing to get anything out of him.

When he arrived, he helped Charlie into the rover without a word, both continuing the silence afterwards. Dennis made the executive decision to get some coffee since he was in the mood for it and he wanted somewhere where he could try to get Charlie to talk. Charlie didn’t bother to acknowledge his glances at the way his eyelashes stuck together a little when he blinked, glued with water from a tear or two, too zoned out to want to notice it. 

Soon after they arrived at their normal coffee shop, the one where the waitress worked, only a few blocks over. Dennis got out of the car first and offered his arm to be looped around but Charlie declined it, opting to just stagger in on his own. Dennis followed him in and guided him to a table from behind, just barely touching his shoulders and yet feeling every vibration of his shaking. 

When he first sat down, Charlie anxiously drummed both hands vigorously against his thighs before inevitably deciding to pull his knees to his chest and hugging them, being just small enough to fit his entire body on the seat of the chair. Dennis pulled the other chair to sit across from him and watched his movements curiously. It took him a full minute to register that there was anyone beside him. 

“Hi, what can I get-,” started the waitress, absentmindedly, now realizing who it was, “Oh, great. It’s you two. “

“Hey, hi.” Dennis greeted meekly, giving a small wave, Charlie too trapped in his thoughts to do any such thing. 

“Charlie?” She said, rolling her eyes a bit to look at him.

“Black.. coffee... “ Charlie stuttered weakly, voice still very much gone. To this, Dennis raised his eyebrow.

“Charlie, are you sure?” He asked, worried that the bitterness and the caffeine would make him feel worse. 

“Goddammit,” Charlie growled under his breath, hands curled into fists from where they had been holding onto his arms, “Yes.”

“Alright, alright,” Dennis conceded, reeling back from being snapped at, “One mocha latte for me, I guess.”

The waitress nodded before cocking an eyebrow and leaning over to ask him what was going on, him briefly explaining that Charlie was somewhat having a breakdown. She shook her head as she walked about but placed their orders anyone and came back minutes later, placing their respective mug in front of them. 

Charlie uncurled his fists as she left again and instead wrapped them around his mug, staring blankly into it, watching the steam rise. Dennis just blinked at him, trying to come up with something to say. 

“You wanna talk about it, bud?” was the best he could come with.

“Caffeine…” Charlie murmured, ignoring his question all together, twitching slightly as he said it. 

“Isn’t that going to make you shake worse?” Dennis interrogated, to which Charlie furrowed his brows. 

“No…” He responded and ended up chugging about half of it, burning everything on the way down. Moments later, he was untucking his legs and fiddling in one of his jean pockets. 

“Goddamn Jimmy Doyle!” He continued, shouting as he pulled out and opened a pocket knife, slamming it into the table’s surface.

“Hey!,” Dennis shrieked, taken aback, “Where’d you get a knife?!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Charlie shook his head, rubbing his palms together, “Went to confront him about Tommy and he only recognized me by my deadname.

“Then he reminded me about that acne I had in highschool and that I, ya know, have a chest… Now, I wanna bash his face in…”

“Well that was a quick transition…” Dennis quiped, trying to make it a lighthearted joke.

Charlie finally made eye contact with him and replied, “It brought back bad memories so I started cutting out but I’m back now.”

Moments later, the waitress walked over with her hands on her hips and her brows raised high, wondering what the raucous was. 

“Great, Charlie’s back to normal,” She sighed, “Now, can you get your knife out of the table before my manager sees?”

Charlie momentarily had a deer in the headlights look before reaching down to pull it out, struggling a bit. Suddenly, Dennis got an evil look in his evil as he came up with a plan.

“Listen, I’ll cut you a deal,” He pitched, “We go back to the bar, grab your rat stick, go try to talk civilly to Doyle, and if he responds negatively, we bash him and run before the cops come.”

Charlie’s eyes lit up as he exclaimed, “Deal!,” and held out his hand. Dennis refused to shake it but he smiled at the enthusiasm, forgetting the waitress was there. 

“Going to pretend I didn’t just hear a planned assault…” She muttered, turning on her heel. 

“Wait!,” Charlie called, “I’ve got this for your tip.” 

He then pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill and handed to her, reveling in the momentary touch of their fingers brushing together. Both she and dennis shared the same look of surprise.

“Charlie, since when do you have money?” Dennis asked suspiciously. 

Charlie shrugged.

“I just found it lying around my apartment.” 

“Wow. Thanks, Charlie.” The waitress stated, still shocked.

Charlie gave her a cheesy smile and a failed attempt to finger gun and wink. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” She suggested, going back to her usual attitude. 

“Right…” He agreed. 

“Come on,” Dennis offered, “Let’s go beat us some Doyle.”

Within moments, the boys were high tailing it to the car and eager to get the opportunity to beat the shit out of Jimmy. He was an asshole in highschool and was still one now so it was well deserved. Not to mention, Dennis found it kind of fun to watch Charlie go feral. 

When they came upon Jimmy’s group of chair-sitting goons, Dennis had Charlie stand behind him to try to talk civilly without Charlie immediately bashing him. Of course, it would probably be easier to get him to comply if he was somewhat bruised up with a baseball bat but he wanted to try his way first. 

“Yo, Doyle. Heard you were talking shit about my boy here.” He stated, attempting to see intimidating. 

“Your boy is hardly a boy at all,” Jimmy scoffed, some of the others lightly laughing, “Just a pipsqueak with their panties in too much of a knot.” 

Charlie growled and stepped forward, ready to swing, only to be caught by Dennis’ back pressing against him and his hand reaching back. He was still pissed over that comment but he grabbed onto Dennis’ shirt for comfort anyway. 

“Woah, hey, man. He just wanted to talk to you about your son, asshole.” Dennis affirmed, trying to get them back on track. 

“Because he’s got some serious emotional problems because of you!” Charlie barked over Dennis’ shoulder. 

“Charlie, cool it,” Dennis demanded, glancing back at him, “I’m doing the talking.”

“Why?” Jimmy asked, unphased.

“Maybe ‘cause you aren’t there for him?” Dennis tried to explain. 

“Why?” Jimmy asked again. 

“Really? We’re really doing this?” Dennis huffed, seconds from turning on his heel and ragging Charlie with him. Which is what they did after the next, “why?”

Dennis grumbled the entire way back to the Range Rover but Charlie was in awe of their hands touching as Dennis dragged him along. Their hands were still intertwined when they came together at the passenger side, Charlie still staring at the way they fitted together. After a few moments, he realized his anger had melted away watching Dennis try to defend him and he stepped closer to press their bodies together. 

Dennis took a moment to realize what he was doing, still coming down from his frustration, and hugged him for a moment, trying not to linger too long. Charlie just smiled knowingly, Dennis slightly grinning back, mostly in an embarrassed manner. 

After that, they decided to go back to the bar and drink the thoughts of Jimmy away, with some soft drunken kisses getting thrown in the mix.


	4. Post-Gang Wins The Big Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by tumblr user Amerileste-cressderqueen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amerileste-cressderqueen's prompt:  
> Charmac w mac helping Charlie out after the Bear trap??? :)

_12 PM_

_On a Monday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

On the flight home, the crew that watched the Eagles win against the Patriots right before their eyes (go Birds!) slept the whole way through. All of the excitement over winning wore them out and every single one of them was out like a light within minutes of taking their seats. 

Upon arrival back home, Dee, Frank, and Mac gathered together in Frank’s car to go check on the bar, curious about what shenanigans Charlie had gotten himself into. Last Mac had seen of him, half his face – no, head – was drenched in green paint and there wasn’t enough time to explain why. So, Mac thought to himself, he would just wait and find out later. 

He was the first to stumble on the utter chaos Charlie had created, nearly setting off half the traps just by opening the door. 

“Jesus H. Christ…” He muttered, scanning the bar and taking in all the damaged. 

An abundance of strings tied wall to wall. Shoes tied together by the laces off near the door and a half empty paint can still oozing green paint on the floor. A nail gun was precariously set up across from the bar top and some nails were already in the shelf on the wall. 

Among this mess, Charlie was laid on the floor, passed very much out, TV still on but no longer broadcasting the Superbowl like it had. The aforementioned green paint was caked thick in his hair and juxtaposed the red stained pant leg, most of the dried blood being around what could only be assumed to be a bear trap. 

“What? What is it?” Dee hooted from behind Mac, stepping forward too and running into his back, ending up gripping the back of his jacket to use for stability from her debilitating case of double pink eye. 

“Charlie wrecked not only the bar but himself.” He explained, glancing over his shoulder at her. 

“Whaddya mean?” Frank asked beside them, furrowing his brows. 

“See for yourself.” Mac offered, stepping aside so Frank could peer in.

“Holy shit!” Frank exclaimed as he reeled back and looked up to Mac.

“Goddammit…” Dee growled under her breath as she failed to open her crusted eyes to look herself. 

“We should probably get his leg looked at, right?” Mac questioned, concern now lining his eyebrows, and bit the corner of his lip. 

“We can get Dee looked at while we’re at it.” Frank suggested. 

“Guys, I’m fine.” Dee interjected, once again trying to play it off. 

“You literally can’t see anything, woman!” Mac shouted, throwing his hands up. 

“Alright, alright. Let’s calm down,” Frank interrupted, devising a plan, “I’ll get Dee back in the car, you go get Charlie, and then we’ll go the the free clinic or the ER.” 

Mac and Dee both grumbled at each other as they conceded. Frank grabbed Dee by the waist to safely guide her to the passenger seat of his Cadillac while Mac cautiously stepped into the bar. 

He stopped in front of the first row of strings, shoving aside the cardboard cut-outs so he could kneel properly. 

“Charlie!” He whisper-shouted as delicately as possible. Charlie had never been that heavy of a sleeper so he began to stir nearly. 

He lifted his head a bit and blinked softly, eyes lighting up when he recognized who it was as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Mac!” He hollered with a big goofy grin. 

“We did it! We won, man!” He continued, slowly sitting all the way up, unphased by the painted sticking to him or the ache of his entire body. 

“Yeah, we did, bud,” Mac entertained, “Now can you do me a favor and crawl over here? I don’t wanna risk setting off all your traps.”

“Oh,” Charlie gaped, looking up at all the things he had put together, “Yeah. Totally.” 

It took him a solid few minutes, between the way everything was set up and his mangled leg, but he dragged himself all the way over to where Mac was knelt, smiling widely when he finally made it. Mac held out his arms and Charlie fell into them, Mac’s hands in his hair, smiling into his shoulder. 

Charlie was much warmer than the chilled air outside, and as soft as ever. Although the leg situation wasn’t ideal, he was glad he hadn’t gotten himself hurt any worse than that. He briskly kissed his cheek, Charlie’s face then nuzzling further into his shoulder. 

“If you give me a minute, I’ll get that trap off you and then we can go out and meet the others.” Mac said quietly, carding one of his hands upwards through Charlie’s hair, feeling him nod. 

He shifted his weight on his knees, one arm tucking Charlie into it and the other feeling around for a release button or anything. 

“Lever. On the bottom.” Charlie finally responded when the search was seeming hopeless.

“Right.” Mac murmured and felt for the lever, pushing it down once he found it. Once the trap let go of his leg, Charlie climbed all the way into his lap, holding him closer by wrapping his arms around his neck. 

“I know you’re going to tell me you can walk just fine but we both know you can’t. So,” Mac started, slowly rising to his feet, locking his arms to hold Charlie bridal style in them, “You just got scooped, loser.” 

“Mac, you’re so mean.” Charlie giggled, sitting up the best he could by wrapping an arm around Mac’s shoulders, and pressing his face into Mac’s neck. 

Frank and Dee were waiting in the car with the A/C on by time Mac managed to carry Charlie out. Frank was fairly zoned out but began to smile once he noticed Charlie’s grin. When they walked over, Mac placed him in the back seat before climbing beside him.

“Chawlie!” Frank happily cried, turning to look at him from his seat. 

“Hey, Frank.” Charlie greeted back. 

“Dee, what’d you do to your eyes,” He continued, “They look disgusting.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Dee shook her head. 

He let it lie, waiting for Mac to put his seatbelt on before resting his head on his shoulder and slipping their hands together. Charlie dozed off early on in the ride and Mac let him have it, seeming as he was clearly exhausted. 

When they got to the free clinic, Dee was the first out, being led by Frank once again. Mac and Charlie took a moment longer since neither of them wanted Charlie to get dropped or be uncomfortable, and getting through the door caused a slight issue. Frank and Dee took seats in the lobby, Frank filling out the paperwork for her, and on a quick thought, Mac scoped out the bathroom so he could clean Charlie up a bit. 

Charlie was set on the sink counter and Mac went to work, being as gentle as possible to scrub off all the paint. It had gotten in every nook and cranny of that half of his face so it took a while longer than he was expecting. By the end of it, his eyes flickered between his millionth damp paper towel soaked in diluted green paint and the green of Charlie’s eyes, comparing the two. 

Charlie’s irises were more of a fern green while the paint was a forest green, borderline jade. Charlie blinked curiously at him as he mentally made the comparison but Mac just smiled. He barely had time to throw out that last paper towel before Charlie was gingerly pulling him closer. 

His arms circled around Mac’s neck as he met him halfway and their lips crashed together. Mac was momentarily shocked before stepping forward and placing his hands on Charlie’s hips. As much as he didn’t want to, he refrained from pushing the kiss too deep or introducing any tongue, knowing that Charlie would get immediately grossed out. 

“I always have been and always shall be yours…” Charlie whispered once they separated after a few minutes. 

Mac knew it was a Star Trek quote, though he didn’t know the relevance to what was happening in that moment, but he was too caught up in the sentiment of it and the tenderness of pulling Charlie close to want to bash him for being nerdy. 


	5. Charlie Gets His Period

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> Charlie on his period? (Charden anon) . To clarify its chill, if ya dont want to write about that a a fellow trans guy I get it could be like, a no. But otherwise literally anything. Fluff. Angst. I'm gonna love it anyway man

_4:45 PM_

_On a Tuesday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

“Dude, are you okay?” Dennis asked, leaning on his elbows on the bar top.

“Hm?,” Charlie finally looked to him from where he had been spacing out watching the open bar sign, “Oh, yeah.”“Are you sure? I’ve seen you use the bathroom like four times every hour for the past five hours.” Dennis chided, as if he had actually been counting. 

“It’s nothing.” Charlie reassured him, fidgeting with his hands as he came to rest his forearms on edge of the bar. 

“Dude, if you’re on your per-” Dennis was stopped mid-sentence by Charlie’s hands covering his mouth and shushing him. 

“Shut up, dude!” Charlie shrieked at him, only removing his hands when he felt Dennis’ mouth close into a scowl and watched his brows furrow. Within a moment’s time, he had sat back down on his bar stool and was adjusting his hoodie, presumably to cover his hips more prominently. 

Not long after he sat back down, his felt his stomach cramp, probably from the sudden movements and nervous energy, so he rubbed his stomach through his shirt as he bit his lip in hopes of massaging the minor pain away. Dennis just stood back, arms crossed at his chest, and watched him silently for a good minute. 

“They’re in the back office.” He said finally, having been using his minute of silence to contemplate what to say. 

“What?” Charlie squawked, unable to wrap his head around it (as if he spent enough time to anyway).

“Dee keeps tampons and shit in the secret latch of the bottom drawer of the back office desk. She tries to keep them hidden because she thinks we’ll make fun of her for it and she’s right to think that.” Dennis explained. 

“So what are you saying?” Charlie was still trying to play it off but it was clear that he was lying through his teeth. Or just that incredibly stupid.

“Go back there and get something, dipshit!” Dennis exclaimed, believing he had been straightforward enough the first time. Charlie muttered a soft, “Oh,” and got off his stool, walking towards the back office but pausing dead in his tracks halfway there. 

“How’d you know anyway?” He questioned, somewhat gesturing to himself. 

“You always sit for too long or run to the bathroom a lot around that time. And you always get grumpy.” Dennis replied honestly. 

“Not grumpy…” Charlie murmured under his breath.

“Plus, I saw a dot of red on the back of your jeans earlier.” Dennis continued.

“Shit!” Charlie shouted, twisting around to check how bad the stain was. 

“If you hurry up, then you won’t have to worry about getting anymore blood on your jeans.” Dennis told him, impatience filling him and causing him to tap his foot. 

Charlie finally sauntered into the back office and spent a few minutes scouring for the sanitary materials, scampering out of the office and to the bathroom in a half run once he finally decided on something. When he came out of the bathroom, he looked as though he felt accomplished. 

Dennis was on his last swig of beer when he got an idea. 

“Hey Charlie,” He devilishly grinned, “Whaddya say, since we’re the only ones here, we go back to my apartment and watch a shitty movie or something. And I can wash that stain out of your jeans while we’re at it.” 

Charlie looked at him like a deer in headlights, running over the logistics of it in his head. He hated undressing in general and it would be even more awkward doing it in front of Dennis. But then again, he could just stay in his boxers (which, thankfully, were _not_ lined by an ugly sanitary pad) and sit as far away as possible so there was no chance that any part of Dennis could brush up against any where near his _area_. 

“…Or not?” Dennis suggested, ready to retract his statement after watching the blank look on Charlie’s face. 

“Let’s go, man.” Charlie waved once he finally blinked back into reality. 

Dennis was admittedly surprised by his compliance but followed him outside anyway. They piled into Range Rover without a word and Dennis turned on the radio within moments of turning on the engine only to be met with the tune of “Good Vibrations” by The Beach Boys. 

Both men looked to each other before sheepishly turning away, neither wanting to comment on the situation. Dennis ultimately decided to keep his eyes on the road and Charlie stared out of the window, here and there glancing to catch glimpses of the straight face Dennis was pulling which was surprisingly tender, not creepy, looking for once. 

When they arrived at Mac and Dennis’ apartment, Dennis sat on the couch in the living room, scrolling the cable guide for the worst movie he could find playing. Charlie meandered to the bathroom, locking the door behind him as he shoved off his jeans, left in just his poor excuse for boxers (thankfully these didn’t have any holes, just a bit of blood needing to be washed out). 

He was about to step out of the bathroom when Dennis appeared before him, holding up a finger. 

“While you’re at it, lemme see your binder.” He told him, not ready to take no for an answer. 

“Why?” Charlie asked, furrowing his brows and wrinkling his nose.

“Because I don’t believe you’ve washed that thing since you got it. Now off with it, man.” Dennis clarified. He was right but he shouldn’t have said it. 

Charlie stared at him for a second before slowly and reluctantly shucking off his hoodie. He continued to stare until the message got across to Dennis, making him roll his eyes and turn all the way around. Charlie turned around too for safe measures and removed both his t-shirt and binder in seconds flat. He pulled his shirt and hoodie back on right after, trying to conceal himself before Dennis could see. 

Once everything dirty was off, he haphazardly folded them into a pile and tapped Dennis’ shoulder to hand them over. Dennis was visibly disgusting by the state of the binder, yellowed and dirt stained from many years of use without washing. Of course, he didn’t ridicule the filth aloud, simply stepping into the kitchen to hand wash everything as Charlie wandered to the couch. 

Already, he was spacing out on the movie playing, too busy trying his best to watch Dennis washing his clothes. It was odd for Dennis to be so tender or caring, making him wonder why he was doing it now. A period really wasn’t that big of a deal, certainly nothing to suddenly change his view on domestic things. But nonetheless, he was grateful that any of it had been offered at all. 

He had somewhat dozed off, head lulled back, by time Dennis finally sat down. Dennis was startled when Charlie’s head abruptly fell into his lap, Charlie far gone by that point, but asked no questions. 

He just ran his hand through Charlie’s hair as he softly snored and zoned out on the shitty movie, feeling a slight warmth biting at his gaping hole inside. 


	6. Dance to Elvis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by Amerileste-cressderqueen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amerileste-cressderqueen's prompt:  
> Charmac pretending to date for a scheme?

_6:45 PM_

_On a Thursday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

“Dude, come on! Don’t pussy out on me just because you have a-” Mac whisper-shouted, sentence cut off by Charlie smacking him on the arm for what he was about to say.

“You’re the one pussydicking, man!” Charlie growled, rolling his shoulders from the uncomfort he was feeling, mostly from the way his binder laid plastered against his skin under his bright white shirt.

“We’re both pussydicking!” Mac retorted, throwing his hands up. 

Here they were, standing all the way against the wall of a restaurant (even nicer than Guigino’s) bathroom, half yelling at each other out of nervous tension. It was another scheme that was gradually turning to roll downhill. 

The original scheme was to get this rich couple to sucker up to a “”couple”” from the gang and milk them of some of the money invested in their company, just enough to have a decent amount of money for the “”couple””s savings account. Problem one occurred with Mac and Charlie being involuntarily chosen to play said couple. Dennis has had his share of playing house with Mac and Dee would not stop gagging at the thought of pretending to be with either of them. Frank was the head of the scheme so there was no other choice to than make Mac and Charlie do it. 

AT first they thought it’d be fine. They had been close their entire lives so a week or two feigning a relationship would be nothing. Of course, that was their first mistake. Both had always seen the other in a different light than they saw, say, Dennis or anyone else they may have associated with at one time or another, but were both far too stubborn to admit it so the crushing pain of feelings weighed in the back of their minds and rattled in their ribcages. 

For the first time in forever, Mac has gelled his hair, just a little bit, but he was beginning to sweat and loosen the gel’s grip. Charlie noticed a clump of hair had fallen out of the gel seal and stuck to his forehead, prompting his to pick it up and move it back to its original spot. Mac stared blankly at him, to which Charlie stared back for a moment before making the executive decision to go back to their table with the couple, dragging Mac by the hand. 

“Hey, hi,” Mac nervously laughed when they stood behind their seats, startling the couple, “Sorry about that. Mr. Man here wanted me to make sure his tie was done properly _again_.” 

“Just trying to make a good impression, you know.” Charlie quipped, trying to cut the nervous tension with a small joke.

“Oh, it’s quite alright. We hardly noticed that you were gone.” Patricia, the wife, chuckled, limply waving her hand. 

“Back to what I was saying about the company-” Doug, the husband, was interested in getting back to his business talk when he was interrupted by the sudden noise of Elvis Presley coming through speakers that nobody had noticed were in the corners of the room.

“Oh this is one of my favorites! Such a sweet song,” Patricia sighed tenderly, “You two go ahead. I don’t think my knee can do much dancing these days but you two are still young!”

Mac and Charlie both looked to each other, gulping as they started sauntering to the open space in the middle of the restaurant where others were beginning to gather. Charlie fidgeted with his blazer and kept his eyes cast down as he followed Mac’s steps. When they found an open spot, they stood facing but just stared at each other for a full minute before even daring to move their limbs.

They attempted to recreate their partner dancing from the dance contest many years ago but with a bit more formality to seem like they were actually prim and proper. Mac took the lead, holding Charlie’s hips, and unconsciously left room for Jesus. Charlie kept his eyes down to make sure they didn’t step on each other’s feet and so he wasn’t to make eye contact with the wetness pricking his eyes. 

Mac halted at the lines, “Take my hand. Take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you,” and Charlie looked up as a knee jerk reaction. Mac’s heart was in his throat by that point and Charlie knew it, making his eyes tear up worse. 

Within moments, he started shaking and was on the cusp of sniffling when he suddenly darted off, Mac left to watch his form disappear. He blinked a few times, wondering what scared Charlie off like a deer, and decided to go investigate, now beginning to realize they may have made a dent in the scheme. 

Charlie had run back into the bathroom, just like earlier, and was half bent over the sink nearest to the wall they had been at before. 

“Dude, what the hell?! You probably just ruined the rouse for us!” Mac roared, coming in too hot on the thought of failure to immediately notice Charlie’s condition. 

Charlie looked to him and blinked, trying to clear the bleariness from his eyes as he chewed his lip. That was the moment that Mac finally took it all in. 

“Charlie…” He said softly, stepping forward with his hands out to catch him in an embrace if he allowed. Charlie’s brows came together slightly as he watched Mac enter his personal bubble and slink his arms ever so slowly around his waist. 

He allowed the arms to settle a moment before heavily laying his head on Mac’s chest, snaking his own arms between Mac’s biceps and torso. It was frustrating that he couldn’t put into words why he had rapidly become a sniveling mess but Mac seemed to understand all the same. Charlie had never been good at articulating his feelings so Mac knew this game far too well. 

And within a few minutes, the scheme had faded away and the only focus for either of them was just to hold each other, as if they were transmitting confessions through osmosis.


	7. Time's Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:   
> Charmac after the chardee reveal in time's up?

“You don’t, you don’t just throw around the-the ‘R’ word, Kate,” Dee stammered, fanning herself with her jacket, “It’s hot, right?” 

Charlie glanced over at her again, gulping as he felt another bead of sweat rolling down from his hairline. The collar of his shirt was soaked in said sweat and his hands were clammy around his near empty coffee cup, the only thing keeping them from shaking as he held onto it. 

Verbally admitting that the incident happened had a ball of anxiety beginning to roll and tack on mass in his chest. It was something that was already bad to think about but saying it aloud brought it further forward in his head and made him remember how it all happened. That recollection made him suddenly feel as gross as he had for weeks after it occurred in the first place. 

His saving grace was watching Frank waddle in, robe threatening to open all the way, on the phone for what was probably like the fifteenth time today. He stood up quickly, gripping the coffee lid tightly, and excused himself on the excuse to get more coffee. It wasn’t entirely false as he did go get some more coffee to help fend off his anxiety in one way or another but he didn’t return afterwards. 

It didn’t seem to matter much because it took the gang a while to even notice he hadn’t come back. 

“Hey, where’s Charlie?” Mac belatedly asked, suddenly noticing the absence of that shrill voice that had originally been next to Dee.

“Dee probably scared him off.” Dennis scoffed, rolling his eyes. He had tuned out from the lecture a long while ago but Mac’s question gave him an excuse to indirectly indicate so.

“What? Me?” Dee squawked, shocked unlike she should have been. 

“Well you did… ‘R’-word the man.” Dennis shrugged as he retorted. 

“Will all of you stop that?! I didn’t… ‘R’-word him!” His sister growled back at him. 

“But you do agree that it wasn’t consensual?” He asked, eventually looking over at her.

“I… Sure, whatever.” Kate wasn’t on her side the first time so she had no other way to back herself up. 

“Great. Glad you admitted it. I’m gonna go found Charlie.” Mac announced to them, getting up within seconds and heading outside the conference room. 

He contemplated another cup of coffee but ultimately decided against it, using his new position by the coffee makers as a vantage point to scan the lobby. Charlie was a little man but it was difficult not to see him with the disheveled hair and the bright green of his jacket (not mention the obnoxious volume of his voice if he was talking). There was no sign of him so he chose to wander the adjoining halls for a bit. 

Apparently, there were some off-shoots on this floor that turned into small, flat balconies, perfect for someone to hide away on. Which is exactly what he found Charlie doing when he inevitably found him. 

“Charlie?” He asked softly, pushing the door to the ledge open as gingerly as possible. 

He thought it would startle Charlie but instead, he just turned around briskly and looked at him with sad, dark eyes. His forearms were resting on the railing, sleeves half-ass rolled to his elbows, one hand occupied with cigarette and the other caught mid-stim. 

Mac did a once-over and slightly raised a brow. He had been holding the door to his back for the entire minute he stood there so he finally let it shut slowly, stepping forward to meet Charlie at the railing. When he leaned over to match Charlie’s pose, Charlie watched for a second before pulling out his half empty pack of Marlboros and offering him one.

Mac declined, surprisingly being the only one of the gang who didn’t occasionally smoke. Then again, it may have been a learned habit from being around his mother his entire life. Either way, Charlie had moved on from it instantly and had one hand cupped near the burning end with the other hand striking his lighter to relight the butt, having noticed that it went out. 

“Honestly,” Mac started saying out of the blue, “Sex with Dee isn’t rape. If anything, it’s bestiality and that’s not as bad as rape so.” 

Charlie choked out a laugh, exhaling a small portion of his smoke through that laugh and willfully exhaling the rest through tight lips. 

“But, really, man. That shit sucks but it happened. And everything’s alright so don’t worry about it too hard.” Mac reassured him, rubbing a minute circle on his back. 

Charlie met his eye and slowly nodded with a small sigh. There really wasn’t anything that he could do about it now because what happened had happened but nothing as bad or worse was going to happen in the foreseeable future. At least he could keep that sentiment in mind. 

Mac had absentmindedly turned the hand closest to Charlie palm up so Charlie took it for a moment, gripping it to agree that he was going to be okay. Mac grinned at him for it, making him smile a little back. Charlie took one last drag of his lit cigarette and let it fall to the balcony floor, scuffing it out with the bottom of his worn shoe. 

“Wawa?” He subsequently asked, voice somewhat hoarse between the lack of speaking and the smoking. Mac was just glad that he had finally said something. 

“Yeah, totally.” Mac agreed, grinning wider.

He turned towards the door and lifted his arm, waiting for Charlie to start walking next to him to wrap it around his shoulders. When he did, Charlie put an arm around his waist and shoved his other hand into his jean pocket. 

“So about that ‘I could do better than you’ thing…” Mac started, about to go off on a tangent. 

“Mhm?” Charlie chuckled with a smile, nuzzling his face into Mac’s neck. 


	8. Pep Rally Dealing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> "I'm partial to the piccolo flute" + charden?

_2:45 PM_

_On a Friday_

_Philadelphia, PA a long time ago_

Pep rallies.

Perhaps one of the most annoying things to ever be created. Especially when your football team was shit and the only good thing about being forced to go was listening to the school band. Even if Notre Dame wasn’t a prude Catholic school, watching their girls as cheerleaders wouldn’t be any fun. 

Not mention, it was always too loud between the other students and the band, all of the noise constantly reverberating against the gym walls. It was making-your-ears-want-to-bleed loud. So between that and the crowds of people, Dennis was really hoping that little dirtgrub would come running in with some _supply_ to calm his nerves. 

He was in the middle of picking at a thread on his rolled sleeve, elbows digging into his blazer which laid across his knees, when he felt a hand just barely able to tug on his pant leg. When he glanced over, he saw a small, heavily freckled face staring at him with big green eyes and a stupid-looking grin. 

“Did you bring it?” Dennis asked, not bothering with pleasantries as he leaned over the rail where Charlie was trying to press his face through. 

Charlie diverted his gaze immediate, quietly replying, “…No.”

“What? Why?!” Dennis growled in a half whisper, half shout, wanting to lean over all the way and drag Charlie up by his ratty hair to strangle him. 

“Dunno where Mac is.” Charlie admitted, finally looking up again. 

“Charlie, you had one job!” Dennis was really going to kill the kid now. 

Charlie just stuck his lip out in a pout, scratching an itch on his chest. Within moments, he stopped a pulled on his over-sized t-shirt to his chest wasn’t as visible. His uniform button-up, by the way, was tied by the sleeves around his hips, almost as if to keep his pants from sagging off. (Even still to this day, nobody understands how St. Joe’s let him in and didn’t make him go to Notre Dame, despite being AFAB. He just says he got lucky. Or that Bonnie probably made a _deal_ of sorts.)

When he noticed that Dennis had turned away scowling, looking at the empty seats beside him, he got an idea. He was thankful that he was small but strong, with enough upper body strength to climb fairly easily. Except, he got stuck halfway through climbing up the bleachers by the side railing (which was the idea that came to mind) and began to blank out on what to do. 

“Are you serious right now?” Dennis questioned, cocking an eyebrow when he recognized what Charlie was doing, said eyebrow half hidden by a curl that had fallen in his face. 

“Help.” Charlie squeaked, pouting lip being stuck out again. 

Dennis just sighed at him and stood up, bending over the railing to hook his hands under Charlie’s biceps, and pulled him up. Charlie wrapped his arms around Dennis’ neck when he was far enough up to be able to, combining their strengths by that point. 

“You can let go you know.” Dennis told him once he was eventually all the way up on the bleachers. 

Being held onto by the neck was usually uncomfortable enough (unless by a hot, soft-skinned girl) but it was worse being as Charlie was much shorter than him, forcing him to bend over. Had it been a cute girl or pretty lady, he may have placed his hands on their hips during this interaction but no. This was Charlie; the weird little worm and the only trans guy in the school. 

Charlie held on for a moment longer before finally releasing him, cheeks slightly flushed. Dennis just rolled his eyes and picked up his blazer off the seats in front of them before sitting down again. Charlie soon followed. The band, all the way across the gym from them, was playing a terrible rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. 

“The band is actually alright whenever they play literally any other song.” Dennis quipped, trying to change the subject.

“Maybe it’s just because **I’m partial to the piccolo flute** , but the tuba section is doing really bad today.” Charlie said quietly. 

“Since when do you know anything about instruments?” Dennis interrogated with furrowed brows, quickly turning to look at him.

“I actually know a lot about instruments!,” Charlie huffed, crossing his arms, “You guys just never want to talk about them!”

“Fair enough.” Dennis conceded, tilting his head momentarily when he thought about it. 

“Is it cold in here or…?” Charlie asked, not really knowing where to take the conversation now. 

“No. It’s actually really hot but then again, your body works in mysterious ways.” Dennis answered, to which Charlie nodded. 

“If you’re cold, just put your button-down over your t-shirt.” Dennis continued, not seeing the problem here. 

“But it’s got holes!” Charlie exclaimed, untying it to hold it up. There were large holes in the pack piece and smaller ones littering the sleeves, probably from all the misuse it saw (including putting out cigarettes and/or joints).

“Oh my _god_ ,” Dennis groaned and threw his blazer around Charlie’s shoulders, “Happy now?”

“Thanks, man.” Charlie smiled, blushing a little, and pulled it all the way around himself, laying his cheek on Dennis’ shoulder afterward.

Dennis rolled his eyes over it but still wrapped his arm around his shoulders. 


	9. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> "I'll protect you!!!! I'm BATMAN!!" + charmac

## 11:41 AM

## On a Monday

## Philadelphia, PA

_This felt like déjà vu._

_Like, serious, full-blown déjà vu. Right down to the rhythm of their steps, in-sync with each other but not with the unmatched pace of their conversation. Even that was exactly the same._

_But, the first difference was the absence of dog shit on the edge of the sidewalk. Without it there, Charlie didn’t consciously decide to step in it (to his own dismay) and actually got a few steps ahead of Mac. This, unfortunately, meant that he was directly under the hanging piano that neither had noticed, Mac a few paces behind him._

_The thin rope that piano hung from was nearly frayed all the way through when Charlie paused in his tracks and turn to tell Mac something, the instrument lingering just above him._

_“Chawlie!” Frank, surprisingly, shouted from across the street as it went midair, prompting Charlie to look at him._

_Within moments, Mac felt an adrenaline rush, beginning to sprint, exclaiming, “_ **_I’ll protect you! I’m Batman!_ ** _” (not that he wasn’t entirely sure where the latter bit had come from.) But, as he was seconds from being within a foot of the shorter man, at a distance to shove him out of the way or pull him inwards to protect him with his own body, he tripped and landed face first._

_It was only seconds before he witnessed the piano fall, landing on Charlie’s lower half, having fallen onto his back while cowering in fear. He let out a blood-curdling, high-pitched scream once the impact set in, sending a panic through Mac’s chest._

_“CHARLIE!” He shrieked, scrambling to get over to where Charlie was seizing with insurmountable pain._

_Mac skidded on his knees as he knelt and tried his best to pull Charlie into his lap, oblivious to the rest of the gang running over to surround them. Charlie was sobbing from the pain but Mac and everyone else tried to keep their heads, all feeling tears prickle their eyes nonetheless. Mac’s arms were hooked under Charlie’s and were holding his chest, chin rested on the crown of Charlie’s head._

_Over the next few minutes, Charlie’s sobs quieted down, as well as his grip on Mac’s hands lessened. His head was slowly lulling backwards, in which that was the point Mac’s internal prayer picked up its pace and intensity, anxious that he was slowly losing him. Charlie’s head was fully laid back in his lap a minute later, a minute, weary smile across his face under the airy exhales through his nose._

_Mac’s chest was tight and his throat was closing in on itself. The color was draining from Charlie’s face, most likely from the blood loss, and his green eyes were turning dark and cold. He managed a soft chuckle with baited breath as he blinked up sluggishly at the tears beginning to fall from Mac’s eyes._

_“_ It’s okay… _”_

Mac awoke with a jolt, covered in a layer of cold sweat. Those final of the dream were echoing in his ears and chilling him to his bones with a residual panic. Thankfully, the hot breath against his neck and the feeling of warm skin meshed with his grounded him to reality seconds later.

“Charlie?” He asked quietly, glancing over his shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of who was spooning him, their hand now more protectively holding his waist after his initial stirring.

“What?” Charlie groaned behind him, voice, already ladden with sleep, half muffled from having his face pressed where Mac’s neck met his shoulders.

“Nothing… It’s fine…” Mac assured, taking a deep breath and wiping his eyes a little.

“Mmm…” Charlie grumbled, pulling him closer.

Charlie always insisted on being the big spoon while cuddling but Mac didn’t mind because he was like a small heater that contorted perfectly to his body. They usually found themselves in the position where Charlie was pressed heavily into Mac’s back, face gently kissing his neck until he eventually fell asleep snoring, with his arms at Mac’s waist (in which Mac usually positioned one or both of his arms to hold his hands) and a leg slotted between Mac’s.

In this current endeavor to pull closer, Charlie’s leg moved nearer to his crotch accidentally and continued to rest there, just out of reach of touching everything there. On the other hand (literally), his hands were in even closer proximity, just grazing his waistband.

“Dude,” Mac sighed, “Can you move your- Actually, I got it…”

With that, he rolled over so they were facing each other, taking Charlie in his arms to hold him against his chest. It was mostly just because now he had the vantage point to be higher up on the bed than Charlie’s short stature, but also he wanted to make sure that Charlie was safe and well, unlike in his nightmare.

Charlie just went with it, going back to snoring softly not long after.

In the morning, Mac got up first, body not allowing him to sleep any longer after the nervous energy in the middle of the night, so he decided to put on a pot of coffee for when both Charlie and Dennis got up (assuming Dennis was home). He sat up on the counter, swinging his legs, thinking of nothing in particular, when he heard the shuffling of feet and watched a tiny figure come waddling out.

He chuckled a little seeing Charlie’s bedhead and the groggy look on his face, drool dried on his chin.

“‘Morning, baby boy…” Mac greeted tenderly, kissing the top of his head as Charlie wrapped his arms around his waist. Charlie just mumbled something incoherent from where his face was pushed into Mac’s stomach.

The coffee maker beeped that it was done brewing and so Mac reached behind himself to grab them both a mug. He poured his own coffee into a Phillies mug that nobody remembered how they acquired and poured Charlie’s into a Phantom of the Opera cup that they had had for years.

“Babe…” He laughed when Charlie refused to move as he tried to get off the counter for sugar and creamer. Charlie only conceded when he was handed his mug (which was just straight black).

It took a few good sips of his coffee for Charlie to wake up most of the way, opting to watch the steam rise rather than Mac making his mug to his tastes over by the fridge.

“So what was all that fuss about last night?” Charlie yawned, leaning his back against the counter-top, holding his mug with both hands.

“Oh,” Mac said, “Just a bad dream ’s all…”

“About?” Charlie’s brow was raised with curiosity as he now watched Mac.

“Do you remember when you kicked me out of the way of that piano a few days before I came out? Came out for real for real, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“It was that but we had switched places and it didn’t end too well.” Mac looked to him with a sad look in his eye.

“Oh.” was all Charlie could manage, not really sure of how to respond.

“It just made me think of all the times I couldn’t save you throughout the years… From your uncle, from getting yourself in trouble, from that time Dennis hit you with his car. Just… A lot of things.” Mac continued, for once wanting to fully explain why it bothered him.

“Again, Jack didn’t ever molest me,” Charlie feigned, “But anyway… Dude, it’s fine. You’re just one person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t save everyone from everything, man.”

“Yeah, but-”

“If you say that you can try, I will smack you.” Charlie threatened lovingly as he walked over and snaked an arm around Mac’s waist, holding his mug in his other hand.

Mac just sighed and smiled, finishing stirring his coffee and taking a sip, putting an arm around Charlie’s shoulders right after. Charlie squished his cheek on Mac’s shoulder and flushed slightly when Mac kissed his forehead.

“Gross…” Dennis yawned as he wandered in, cuing both Mac and Charlie to look over at him.

They just giggled among themselves as watched him grab his Penn State mug and pour himself some coffee.


	10. Cold Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> "Let me drive you home" with charden

After the waitress left, Frank still looked pretty damn proud of himself, once he put aside the indirect insults. 

Dee had to laugh a little (to herself, of course) once she absorbed all of the information, inevitably realizing her hard work had paid off. Mac and Dennis kept looking to each other with furrowed brows, equally trying to process what just happened. 

Charlie felt his chest get tight (not just from his [newly cleaned] binder) and, within minutes, had scurried to the back office without a trace, nobody noticing the noise of glass on glass as he loaded his arms with beers. He was planning on drinking himself silly and hoping that he could forget this ever happened before blacking out. But, of course, by time he locked himself in and started on the first few beers, he had spiraled and was crying even harder than he had been, hardly able to gulp down his half-drunk beer when he raised its bottle to his lips. 

Everyone else waited for Dennis’ lip to stop bleeding and Mac’s face swelling to go down somewhat before calling it a night. They were just about to walk out and turn the lights off when Frank realized they were missing something. 

“Where’s Chawlie?” He asked, now noticing that his roommate was absent. The others looked to each other, wondering how they had let the thought bypass them. 

Dennis took the initiative to go check the back office, Mac searching the bathrooms and Dee the keg room, absentmindedly running his tongue over the fresh scab of his lip. He tried the handle, shaking a few times to see if it was just stuck or actually locked. When he determined that it was locked, he chuckled to himself, muttering that Charlie was the one (besides his dad now) who was too short to reach the key they kept up on the door frame, getting on his tip-toes to reach it and shove it in the handle. 

Once he got the door open, Charlie was looking at him like a deer in headlights, cheeks flooded with tears.

"Woah, Charlie. What’s going on here?“ Dennis questioned, confused by the display. Charlie just shook his head rather than answering, wiping his nose on his sleeve. His throat was too tight and his nose too congested to talk anyway. 

“Right,” Dennis conceded, stepping closer, “Come on. **Let me drive you home**.” “No.” Charlie said plainly and outright, swallowing hard. 

“What? Why?" 

"Because thinking about him right now is making me nauseous." 

"Fine, fine. I’ll cut you a deal. You can sleep on me and Mac’s couch if you want.” Dennis compromised.

Charlie bit his lip and wiped his eyes as he contemplated the offer. It would be that he wouldn’t have to sleep next to Frank for a night as he held a grudge for what he did. Plus, he could probably convince Mac at some point to let him sleep in his bed, like they did when they were young. Once he finally made a decision, he looked back up to Dennis and nodded. 

Dennis gave him a thumbs up and offered him a hand to help him up. Charlie took it, both equally pulling so he could get to his feet. His balance took a second to reinstate so he accidentally laid his hand on Dennis’ bicep to stabilize himself, but it was alright because Dennis placed his hand on his elbow to help too. 

They stared into each other’s eyes for a solid minute, not sure what to do or say about the touching. The longer they were silent yet still holding, the more the awkward tension grew between them. Finally, Charlie chickened, stepping backwards and starting to nervously rub his hands. 

Dennis looked away and cleared his throat before turning to open the door. He cracked it open slightly, one hand on the knob and the other moving back as if to protect Charlie like a bodyguard would. To this, Charlie followed extremely close on his tail, nearly grabbing onto the back of his shirt. 

“Did you find him?” Mac asked once Dennis was more visible. 

“Yeah…” Dennis replied, glancing behind him for a second. 

Charlie’s head momentarily popped up over his shoulder, only his eyes being visible. 

“Oof…” Dee muttered to herself, noticing how red his eyes were and the pink around them. 

“Mac, you good with Charlie staying over tonight? Boys’ night maybe?” Dennis questioned, retracting his swung back arm until he felt Charlie grasp his hand. 

“Yeah, totally.” Mac nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“Chawlie…” Frank mumbled with a small pout. 

“Dad, he doesn’t want to talk to you right now…” Dennis near growled, Charlie blinking behind him, unused to this wave of protectiveness. 

“Right. I’m gonna head home and sleep off the events of the day. Later, boners.” Dee announced and was the first to leave. Frank watched the floor for a minute and glanced at the boys before following suit to go to his Cadillac. 

When the bar went silent again, Mac and Dennis looked to each other, wondering what to do. They ended up not having to figure it out as moments later Dennis felt Charlie’s forehead meet his back right between his shoulder blades. 

“Thanks, Den…” He said softly, almost inaudibly. Mac and Dennis both smiled gingerly and sighed. 

“Of course, bud.” Dennis replied, wishing Charlie wasn’t all the way behind him so he could pat his back. 

“Let’s go before the movie store closes.” Mac suggested, causing Dennis and Charlie to nod, and led the group out. 

Back at home, Predator blared on the screen but Charlie was half paying attention (he could barely follow it anyway). He was sat in the middle with Dennis on his left and Mac on his right. They were both tentatively watching at least. 

Charlie looked up at Dennis, gaze going unnoticed, and licked his lips. He just barely laid his head on Dennis’ shoulder, scared to be pushed off, but Dennis didn’t move. Seeking the opportunity, Charlie’s hand found Dennis’ and they intertwined on Dennis’ thigh. 

They were glad that it was far too dark for Mac to start preaching to them over it. 


	11. Tent Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> "I hate knowing we have to hide" with charmac

“Charlie…”

“Yeah?” Charlie had zoned out watching the fire but was brought back to reality by Mac saying his name. 

“Do you think we’d have to tell the gang if they find out we’re not actually dead?” Mac met his eye and bit his lip, brows furrowed in concern. 

“Tell them what?” Charlie asked, completely oblivious to what he was talking about. 

“About… _us_.” Mac tried to keep his voice low at the end of the sentence as to not be loud enough to be suspicious.

“I dunno.” Charlie shrugged, not really phased either way. 

Mac twirled the rod in his hand, not sure what to say yet so he was fiddling as he contemplated. 

“I just… **Hate knowing we have to hide** , ya know?” He said finally. 

“Yeah.”

“I mean, they’re our friends. They should know, shouldn’t they?” He questioned, swallowing hard. 

“Dude, they’ve probably already guessed that’s something’s going on.” Charlie admitted. 

“We’ve been close since we were little and sometimes we get a little more… Touchy and stuff.” 

“Yeah…” Mac sighed in agreement. There was still a sad look lingering in his eye, as if there was a war going on inside him. 

“Hey, look at me.” Charlie prompted, smirking a little already as Mac turned to him. 

“I love you, man. A lot. So if the others have a problem with that, I’ll kick their asses, okay?” He fully grinned, glad to see a smile slip onto Mac’s face as well. 

Mac grabbed him by the jawline and kissed his cheek before wrapping his arms around his neck. Charlie nuzzled into his neck and put his arms around Mac’s waist, pulling him close. 

In the bar below, everyone could hear them through the vents, making them roll their eyes, but they were glad that those two were happy together at least. 


	12. Under the Bleachers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:   
> charmac just hanging out in high school, doing drugs and skipping class
> 
> [TW: drugs]

_10:05 AM_

_On a Wednesday_

_Philadelphia, PA a long time ago_

“Charlie, I have news, terrific news.” Mac giggled excitedly in a nearly sing-song tone. 

It was the beginning of their P.E. class but, as usual, all they did was hang out under the outside bleachers by the track and do whatever drugs they could get their hands on (which was typically weed and lots of it). 

“Hmm?” Charlie lifted his head from where he was laid out on his back like a starfish upon the patchy grass. 

“Scored us a bag of molly. Hundred mill, more or less.” Mac replied, sitting down beside him with a loud thump. 

“How much?” Charlie asked, laying his head back down and looking over at him. 

“Usually it’s like thirty, forty bucks but I got it for ten!… And in exchange for something else, but that doesn’t really matter.” Mac answered, shifting his gaze towards the end.

Charlie momentarily furrowed his brows, having a feeling he knew what the exchange was, especially given the way Mac kept rubbing one of his palms on his shorts, but let it lie. He was interested in seeing if it was as much of a trip as everyone said it was. 

“Hurry up, man,” He groaned, watching Mac fiddled with the plastic baggie, “Before the period ends.” 

“Dude, we’ve been skipping since this morning. Don’t get your panties in a wad.” Mac retorted, the latter comment borderline getting into another subject. 

Charlie growled at him and fixed his over-sized t-shirt to hide his chest, though it was hard given that he was lying down. He allowed himself a moment to calm down over it and watched as Mac finally got the bag open.

“So how are we doing this?” Charlie interrogated, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow, forced to fix his shirt again. 

“Well, it isn’t the pill one so… We could put it in blunt paper maybe?” Mac shrugged, not having thought that far ahead. 

“Better be better than weed…” Charlie muttered while Mac pulled out the papers and began to roll a few ounces of powder into a vaguely joint shaped object.

“You still suck at rolling them.” Charlie laughed, taking it to examine Mac’s handiwork (or lack thereof).

“Shut up, man. Not all of us have little gremlin hands.” Mac scoffed, snatching it back. 

“They’re average-sized, asshole!” Charlie exclaimed, turning a little red in the face.

“Whatever you say, dude. I still don’t think your mom should feed you after midnight, though.” Mac snorted and went digging for his lighter. For that, Charlie socked him right in the bicep (the kid has a hell of a right hook). 

Mac rubbed the now red spot on his arm before sticking the joint between his lips and cupped one hand near the end of it, having to flick a few times on the lighter to get it lit. He gave it a second to start burning before inhaling deeply, hoping to get anything. All he managed was to have some bright white smoke to blow out. 

“Anything?” Charlie asked curiously, green eyes wide. 

“Nope.” Mac huffed, disappointed. 

“Bogus!” Charlie groaned and rolled onto his back again, limbs spread out once more. 

“You wanna try?” 

“Obviously.”

Mac handed him the blunt and watched as he took a slow drag from it, large eyes going half-lidded partway through the inhale-exhale process. 

“So?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Shit! That fucker.” Mac was internally cursing the kid he bought it from but stopped after he realized he was being a borderline pagan.

“It’s probably just crushed up baby aspirin, bro.” Charlie suggested, putting out the joint on his shirt and scouring his baggy pants to see if he still had one of their earlier marijuana blunts. 

“Do we know anyone with a baby, then?” 

“I think my sister’s too old for it now.” 

“She’s like not even three years younger than you, dude, so yeah, I think so.” Mac pointed out. 

“Is Nikki Potnik pregnant or is she just kinda fat?” Charlie asked, running out of ideas.

“Just fat.” Mac responded. 

They sat in silence trying to put their heads together. Charlie was drumming his hands on his stomach while Mac fiddled with the edge of his shorts. Charlie momentarily pursed as a thought came to him. 

“Do you want to give it to the twins and say it’s cocaine?” 

“Yup.” Mac nodded, quickly getting to his feet with Charlie following suit. 

(And by the way, the twins absolutely fell for it.)


	13. Longview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmacdennis requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> charmacdennis in the ride to the hospital in gun fever

“All right! I’ll take you to a hospital! God! All right,” Dennis groaned, hanging out the phone,”Get a trash bag. We’ll put it over him. “

“What? Dude, no. Then he’ll suffocate and actually die.” Mac shook his head, knelt back at Charlie’s side, bent over to loop Charlie’s arm around his shoulders. 

Dee was taking Charlie’s other arm, knowing that Charlie would throw a pissy fit if Dennis was helping carry him, whether she wanted to admit he was a little stronger or not. She looked to Mac and the both nodded, standing in unison seconds later. Dennis was already letting the front door slam behind him as he turned on the car. 

Charlie’s fists were clenched the entire walk (more so waddle) to the Range Rover. Typically, he was pretty alright at taking pain but this time it seems the bullet had grazed a main nerve, sending pain through the inflamed area all the way into the back of his right eye and down his face. The vision in his eye was going spotty and his ear was ringing from the nerve currently being unable to accurately receive communications. 

Once they got outside, Dee let Mac deal with trying to get Charlie in, opting to take the passenger seat. Charlie crawled on the seat (literally) and waited for Mac to get settled so he could collapse with his head in his lap. Of course, he laid on his left side so he wouldn’t make his wound hurt and keep the blood off Mac’s jeans. 

“Charlie, you good?” Dennis asked, genuine concern still lingering in his voice, glancing back. 

“No…” Charlie growled in response, sniffling as he tried not to cry from the pain, deciding to cover his face with his arms.

Dennis just sighed and looked up to his rear-view mirror to make sure he was safe to pull out. Mac felt guilt pooling in his stomach, despite it not being his fault, and began running his hands through Charlie’s hair in an effort to comfort him. Charlie moved his arms momentarily to look up with him with sad but grateful eyes. 

There was an uncomfortable tension growing in the silence as everyone refused to talk. It was probably for the better so that they didn’t start strangling each other and threatening to get into a crash. But, nonetheless, Dennis kept making small glances into the back seat, hoping for a glimpse of Charlie not hating his guts right now (which he knew was improbable). 

Once they got to the ER, Dennis was the first out, opening Mac’s door for him and anticipating getting back on Charlie’s good graces by helping him walk. Mac, once again, took one side of Charlie and let Dennis have the other with an understanding look. Charlie’s jaw was clenched the moment he saw Dennis attempting to help but he had no choice but to let him, in too much pain to do otherwise. 

They sent Dee ahead of them to talk to the staff and by time they half-ass rushed through the doors, there was already a nurse waiting with a wheelchair. On a quick whim, both men chose to kiss either of Charlie’s cheeks, causing him to shudder from the swelling down the right side of his face, before they lowered him into the seat.

As he was wheeled off, Mac and Dennis clapped hands in a high for their work, ending up not letting go, all three gang members standing for a moment before making a walk of shame to the lobby.


	14. Leaving on a Jet Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> 29 [Going off to war au], Charden

_2:34 PM_

_On a Thursday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

_1971_

“Charlie! Open up!” This was about the eighth time Dennis had knocked on his door in the span of five minutes, receiving no answer. 

“Go away!” a voice finally choked out, loud enough to give the impression that it was near the door but not close enough to open it in seconds. 

“Charlie…” Dennis sighed, placing his forehead and hands flat against the door. 

Everything went quiet for a good few minutes, except the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. Dennis hated the circumstances that were making his heart heavy just as much as Charlie did but neither of them could help it. If the US had their shit together, there wouldn’t have been war in Vietnam at all and therefore no need for a draft. 

The door cracked open slowly, startling Dennis, revealing Charlie’s short stature and the fact that his usually bright eyes were dimmed with tears. He blinked up at Dennis from under his long lashes and swallowed hard, hands held on the knob to keep them from shaking. 

“Charlie…” Dennis said again softly, stepping inside and opening his arms to wrap them around Charlie. 

Charlie stepped and met him halfway, crushing him in embrace, trying not to sob into his chest. Dennis’ throat started feeling tight, finally lacking apathy for once in his life, and held him tight. 

“When…” Charlie muttered, voice cracking even within a single word.

“Hm?” Dennis raised a brow and watched Charlie lift his chin so they could meet each other’s gaze.

“When do you leave?” Charlie reiterated, eyes wide.

“December.” Dennis replied, not sure of the date yet. 

“Where do you have to go?”

“Fort Indiantown.” 

“That’s pretty far.” Charlie quipped, trying to lighten their mood surrounding them. 

“Not as far as Vietnam,” Dennis shrugged, “But either way, still too far from you…”

“Hah! Would you even read my letters if I wrote them?” Charlie asked in a somewhat suspicious manner, eyebrow raised. 

“If you learn to write better, then of course.” Dennis retorted, kissing his forehead. 

“Really?” Charlie’s eyes were shining, both with tenderness and a fresh batch of tears. 

“You’re all I have… Sure, there’s the rest of our friends but that doesn’t matter… You make me _feel_ , Charlie…” Dennis felt renewed as he confessed, which was something very new for him.

“And I thought you said you didn’t believe in romance?” As much as he tried to play it off, Charlie was looking at him lovingly and the sentiment made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Well…” Dennis chuckled. 


	15. Open House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> 19 [Parents meeting while taking their kids to school au] or 1 for Charden? I dont want to soam you man you can pick

_5:30 PM_

_On a Friday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

“Ah… The memories.” Charlie sighed, looking around the hallway. 

It was the night of Charlie Jr’s open house at their elementary school, St. Vincent’s, where Charlie happened to go himself. He was internally reminiscing on all the times he and his friend-since-childhood Mac would get in trouble with every single teacher, including all the times they would break into the cabinets in the back of the classrooms to steal glue for huffing. 

“Daddy…” CJ said quietly, tugging on his hand to get his attention. 

“Yeah, baby?” He looked down and pushed aside the curls that had fallen in their face, better revealing their large eyes that always amazed him by being the exact shade of green as his own.

“Don’t get in trouble…” CJ had overheard stories from their father’s childhood and it seemed that they had stuck with them.

“Aww, baby,” Charlie squatted down and kissed their forehead, “I promise I won’t.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” And with that, they locked pinky fingers and Charlie scooped his darling child into his arms right afterward. CJ laid their head on his shoulder and let his put their mint green hoodie as much as he could manage to get it over their curls.

Charlie was about to ask them again which classroom was theirs when he stumbled forward, nearly losing his grip on CJ, as someone accidentally bumped into him from behind. His head wiped around, ready to tell someone off until he realized how attractive the dad standing behind him was.

“Sorry about that, man. I wasn’t watching where we were going.” Mystery-Dad apologized, using his free hand to quickly gesture down to the child he held hands with, presumably his son. 

“’s fine…” Charlie replied, still coming back to reality. 

“Hi CJ!” Mystery-Dad’s son called up, prompting CJ to look down.

“Hi Brian.” They waved, using their other hand to cover their mouth as they yawned. 

“Seems the kids know each other,” Mystery-Dad chuckled, holding up his free hand to be shaken, “Dennis.” 

Charlie nodded and switched CJ to be supported in his other arm as he used his now free hand to properly shake.

“Charlie. Or… Charlie Sr., I guess.” 

“We’re in the same class!” Brian exclaimed, ignoring the adult pleasantries. 

“We can walk together then.” Dennis offered, smiling as he watched Charlie nod. 

CJ, despite being four and a half by this point, still had a tendency to talk random naps, going out like a light. That is to say, they were dead to the world by time the newly formed group shuffled into the back of the classroom, opting to stay away from the crowding towards the front. Charlie gently shook his head when he noticed that his kid was far gone, Dennis placing Brian right in front of him and gingerly holding his shoulders. 

The kids’ teacher seemed sweet, a young lady probably in her twenties, clearly passionate about her job already. But, Charlie had been up since seven that morning and the rambling up by the whiteboard was making his eyes droop. He figured he could just close his eyes for a minute and then come back to full attention but that never happened. 

His head slowly fell onto Dennis’ shoulder, more so his bicep being as he was taller than Charlie’s short stature, the possibility of an awkward moment when he’d wake up being unbeknownst to him. Dennis just laughed beside him when he recognized it, Brian looking up to see what was so funny. The Kellys were one in the same essentially, apple not falling far from the tree. 

Charlie blinked awake when he heard the loud noise of other parents and children leaving. Not to mention, his hips and feet were not having it any longer with standing, never being able to take the same strain as they used to before having CJ. Speaking of them, they seemed out of it for the night, though they’d probably be interested in dinner later. 

Charlie flushed bright red when he realized that his head had been resting on Dennis’ arm and that Dennis was still standing there. Brian was even yawning in front of him but Dennis couldn’t help but smile at Charlie. 

“Nice nap?” He asked jokingly.

“…Yeah.” Charlie replied, feeling guilty for having slept on him. 

“Good. Well,” Dennis’ smile turned into a smirk and he glanced down, scribbling on a notepad he apparently had had in his pocket, “If you ever need a napping spot again, call me.”

He ripped off the corner of the page, where he had scribbled his name and number, and placed it in the palm of his hand. From there, he slipped it into Charlie’s back pocket so he wouldn’t lose it ~~and just for an excuse to touch his ass~~.

Charlie’s brain took an entire five minutes to start functioning again after that. 


	16. We're Going to Be Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> write... young charmac

_7:30 AM_

_On a Monday_

_Philadelphia, PA a long time ago_

The first day of school was always torture. 

Especially when you’re barely even six-and-a-half and all you want to do is play with your mangy dog and be badass (and not let your mom know you know that word). But, sending you to school meant that your mom wouldn’t have to put up with you for few hours and could watch TV while banking on unemployment, despite telling you that she found a job to scrap together some extra money (you two already have a complicated relationship). 

So, you just have to comply. You sit all the way in the back of your new first-grade classroom and pray the seat next to you stays open. Someone would have to deal with sitting on your feet if they wanted the chair, anyway. Your teacher stood at the front, rambling about how excited she was for this upcoming year and how she wanted to get to know everyone by name and other fake bullshit. 

You glance up at the clock and realize this isn’t even five minutes into the morning class which meant there were still forty more minutes until any sort of snack break or recess (not that you had a strong grip on the calculations of it). You were already tuning out from before class even started so there was no use in coming back to reality and letting the other children’s noises become more than background static. 

Another eight or so minutes pass in which you think about what your dog will probably being doing all day and why G*d made lizards like that and what you still had in your worn down fridge that you could scour for when you got home and whether anyone noticed— Then suddenly, your incoherent train of thought is interrupted by a knock on the classroom door. Jumping on the bandwagon, you turn to look like the rest of your classmates.

Your teacher answers the door and it is pulled open to reveal a small group, just barely a trio. A young… Boy? You can’t really tell. Let’s call them a kid. A young _kid_ with wide green eyes, thousands of freckles, and hair in disarray as it stands off their head. Behind them is presumably their mother, a young woman with bright red curls resting on her shoulders. She’s dressed nicely yet casually, as if she had some informal business to attend to but you can’t tell what. Upon her him is a little girl, probably around three, with auburn curls half shielding her face. 

‘Ooh! Sorry for being late,’ The mother apologizes, ‘I didn’t want Charlie to miss his first day but I seemed to miss my alarm.’

_Charlie_. That’s the _boy_ ’s name. Interesting. 

Charlie looks dumbfounded as he stares outwardly towards the other students. Some are scowling at his looks, those being the more preppy rich kids, judging his class and the small streaks of dirt on his chubby cheeks. Others are already presuming right off the bat whether he’s an idiot or not, given the look on his face. 

The teacher gladly welcomes the boy in and scans the room looking for an empty spaces. Unfortunate for both of you, the one next to you— your footrest — is the only one left so she sends him in your direction. You groan and pull back your legs, firmly planting them on the floor. Charlie sheepishly pulls out the empty chair, making sure to sit as far away from you as possible, while his mom and your teacher exchange pleasantries. 

‘So what are you?’ is the first thing to leave your mouth, leaving you a bit shell-shocked that you said that thought aloud. 

‘What do you mean?’ Charlie retorts, voice more shrill than you, or frankly anyone, expect(s). 

‘Like what do you—’ You’re subsequently cut off by his face turning red.

‘I’m a boy!’ He exclaims, pulling on his shirt as if to hide his lap more than his baggy shorts were already doing, and crossing his arms across his chest. 

‘Whatever, man.’ You roll your eyes, ready to tune him out. 

‘“Whatever, man”.’ He mimics, probably to piss you off. It makes you huff but it’s not worth picking a fight. 

‘What’s your name anyway, Mr. 20 Questions?’ He questions, still heated but not trying so hard to get a rise out of you. 

‘Mac.’ 

‘That’s a weird name.’

‘It’s just a nickname…’

‘Then it’s a weird nickname.’

‘Shut up, _Charles_.’

After your emphasis on Charles, he looks at the floor, as if you internally wounded him without knowing. 

‘It’s Charlotte…’ He finally murmurs, hardly audible.

‘Huh?’

‘Charlie comes from _Charlotte_ … Just don’t tell anyone…’

‘So what? You’re a boy with a girl’s name. A least it isn’t as bad as my name.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Promise not to laugh.’

‘Okay.’

‘…Ronald McDonald…’ It pains you to say because it’s always so embarrassing to admit so you tell him in a hushed tone. 

Charlie immediately bursts out laughing, disturbing the quiet of the room. Now it’s your turn to turn red hot, right up to your ears. You desperately want to push him out of his seat for it but for once you’d rather not get in trouble. 

‘Charlie, you suck.’

It takes him a good few minutes to catch his breath, diaphragm hurting from laughing so hard. 

‘Whatever you say, _Ronald McDonald_.’


	17. Early Morning Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> could u plz do a Charmac fluff story about nightmares? i don't mind if charlie is trans either. thanks :)

_3:41 AM_

_On a Sunday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

He was used to all of Charlie’s noises at this point; snoring, screaming, squeaking, moa— You get the point. 

But this, was somewhat knew. It was the middle of the goddamn night and Mac had been dead asleep, comforted by the warmth spooned around his backside. But, now, obviously, he was awake again. 

Understandably, he was pretty pissed. The scheme from the previous day made them get up early and stay up late so finally getting to bed was heaven. He just wanted to sleep the whole night through, at least to the best of his ability, but now he was being woken up for whatever reason. 

“Charlie…” He groaned, voice thick from the little sleep he already had. 

It was only then that he felt something wet touch his bare back, presumably having come out of Charlie’s face. His best guess was drool, given old habits, but when he rolled over to face him after not receiving an answer, he felt wetness staining higher up on his cheeks. 

Despite being extremely dark, there was still a bit of light coming in from the street, prompting Mac to open his eyes finally. What he saw was Charlie’s eyes wrenched tight, tears steadily streaming out of them, and his lips curled together in a pathetic scowl, trying to hold back the _whimpering_. 

“Charlie.” Mac said a little louder this time, Charlie’s eyes slowly stopping their squeezing to blink at him. 

His pupils were blown and it was easy to see the fear behind them. Another source of wetness was the mucus beginning to clog his nose as he started to sniffle. His overall sad look was just. Very pitiful. 

“What’s wrong?” Mac asked softly, cupping both of his cheeks and stroking them with his thumbs, hoping to get something to work with. 

“D-Dee…” was all Charlie could manage to stutter, words getting caught in his throat between the pain of recalling the nightmare and the subsequent bawling. 

For a couple of weeks after the incident, Charlie had shut himself off from anything and everything. He felt disgusting, about himself and the situation, and had a rough time getting through the psychological pain of it. At some point he bounced back but it still pained him to be around Dee and he still got the nightmares he had had those first few weeks reoccurring every once in awhile, with varying degrees of horrendous content. 

Though Mac didn’t fully understand any of it, he still allowed Charlie to confide him when he felt ready. So here was the first night that he had ever seen it happen before his eyes. The few other times the nightmares had come back, Charlie was alone or just out of Mac’s vicinity. 

“Oh, baby,” Mac cooed, beginning to tug him close and wrap his arms around his shoulders, “You’re okay… Nothing’s happening… Just go back to sleep…” 

Charlie just sniveled against his chest and began involuntarily shaking, still thinking about the dream. He just wanted out of the touch but Mac’s arms had him trapped. In any other case, he would have fought, kicking and biting, tooth and nail, but right now he lacked the energy. 

Eventually, he cried himself back to sleep and Mac sighed to himself as the light snores started up again. 


	18. Merry Christmas to Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> I've got a Charden prompt? Frank throws Charlie out so he ends up and Mac and Dennis' (Mac is out somewhere) so they put up Christmas decorations and, I don't know man, just some fluff, if that's alright :)
> 
> [Note: I haven't seen the Christmas special so this was a total goof]

_3:24 PM_

_On a Monday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

_2006_

Charlie knocked heavily on the door, fidgeting with his outer coat after he did. 

“Hey– Oh, it’s you.” He said nonchalantly, being greeted at the open door by Dennis. 

“What do you mean ‘it’s you’? This is my apartment, dude.” Dennis replied, furrowing his brows. 

“Was looking Mac is all.” Charlie assured, defensively putting his hands up a little. 

“Not here. Actually, haven’t seen him for a good while. Weird.” Dennis thought aloud. 

“Bummer,” Charlie huffed, “Guess I’ll go hang out at the park. Or throw rocks myself.” 

“Dude, it’s Christmas, you shouldn’t spend it alone. Besides, I thought you and Frank had a Charlie Brown situation going on.” Dennis mentioned, leaning an arm on the doorframe. 

“Kicked me out for the night. Dressed up as Santa and brought back a bunch of ‘hoor’s to the apartment.” Charlie explained, sighing.

“Right,” Dennis nodded, contemplating a moment, “Do you wanna help me decorate? I mean the decorations are only staying up for a few hours but…”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Charlie agreed, following himself inside. 

He whipped off his Santa hat, throwing it on the couch, and doffed his outer coat only to leave it on the couch’s armrest. There was a fake tree in shambles on the floor, disassembled still after what was probably horrible efforts to put it together alone. The boxes of ornaments for it were still dusty and looked like they hadn’t been opened since 1985. 

“So?”

“Tree first.” Dennis ordered, stretching his back before crouching to look over the pieces. 

“Right.”

Although it wasn’t a heavy tree once put together, they both still put equal effort into holding and slotting together the sections. It was a fancy fake tree that had bendable branches so they each took a half and fanned out the “”leaves””, accidentally coming together at a halfway point, bumping hips and touching hands. 

They stumbled away from that interaction and took to opening a few of the boxes to see what they were working with. Most of the ornaments were shattered from age and misuse so they only had one salvageable box to sparsely decorate with. Charlie was far too short to reach the top, even standing on a chair, so Dennis topped it with a gold, glittery star with a torn ribbon. 

After they were wore out, they sat down hard on the couch, not really caring at that point that they were basically pressed together. They were too far from thinking about it that it didn’t bother them this time. 

“So, do you have—”

“Eggnog?”

“Yeah…”

“Of course.”

With that, Dennis got up once more to scour for the fresh bottle of eggnog, grabbing them glasses and setting the arrangement on the coffee table. He poured them each a decent amount and they toasted, simultaneously chugging as if it were a beer. Eggnog was always a pleasant high. 

At some point, their heads and visions went hazy, making them catch the other blink at them. Involuntarily, they both leaned and met halfway, able to taste the eggnog that had just been in the other’s mouth. The kiss began to deepen as Charlie slowly crawled into Dennis’ lap, straddling his hips, and letting the kiss be soft and lazy. 

Neither really cared that there wasn’t any mistletoe.


	19. Art of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> Dennis reading to Charlie? As a prompt?

_2:53 PM_

_On a Thursday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

“Hey, Den,” Charlie started, slowly opening the door to the back office (which he thought would be locked), “Oh.” 

Dennis had gone in there without emerging about an hour ago so Charlie had gotten curious of his whereabouts, especially since nothing interesting was going on in the bar. Turns out Dennis was kicked back in the desk chair with his feet up on the desk as he leaned back (which was very unlike him), well worn book in his hands. 

“Since when do you read for fun?” Charlie questioned, intrigue sparked by the site, even if Dennis was glaring as him. 

“Since when do you care?” Dennis retorted, not bothering to move his hands from the positions they were in to hold the book open. 

“Since right now.” 

“It’s an on-and-off habit, I’ll have you know,” Dennis scoffed, “And at least I know how to read…” 

“Hey! I may have diss… disslik…” Charlie was having another executive function cut out, as usual.

“Dyslexia?” Dennis suggested, remembering the time he questioned that himself before ultimately deciding Charlie was just illiterate.

“Dissleksia, yes!” Charlie exclaimed, it now coming back to him.

“Even though dyslexia and ADD can cross over, I think you’re just an attention-deficient illiterate…” Dennis argued, slowly becoming disdained. 

“Whatever, man,” Charlie shook his head, “What are you reading anyway?” 

He came around to Dennis’ side of the desk and squatted to get a better look at the covers, even though the actual words were a bit hazy and his brain was mixing them up. He knew Dennis was going to laugh at him for it but that wasn’t anything knew. Instead, Dennis just watched him with a raised brow.

“ _The Art of War_ …” Dennis replied, as if Charlie would now what that was, still confused why he was so interested. 

“Cool… What’s about?” Charlie asked, folding his arms on top of Dennis’ thigh and laying his head on, attempting to stabilize himself. 

“It’s about techniques and strategies used— Dude, what are you doing?” Dennis reeled back a little once he recognized the touch, beginning to pull his feet from atop the desk. 

“Listening?” Charlie replied, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“I’d say ‘no shit’ but I don’t know half the time with you,” Dennis scoffed back, “Anyway, pull up a chair if you’re going to ‘‘listen’‘.”

“But there aren’t any more chairs in here.” Charlie pouted, looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

“Well, I’m not going to let you sit in my lap or whatever those puppy eyes are begging for.” Dennis said sternly. 

“Fine.” Charlie huffed, retracting his arms and using them as leverage to push against the floor, popping to his feet and rocking on his heels as he caught his balance. 

Usually, Charlie wasn’t one to throw any sort of fit to get what he wanted (that was a twin thing) but it didn’t excluded him from being an ass about it sometimes. Oh, the joys of being friends with someone who was spoiled and treated as though they were an only child (Charlie’s poor sister, whatever her name was). 

“Fine,” Dennis groaned as Charlie was almost all the way out the door, “If it stops whatever the hell tantrum this is.” 

Charlie gave him a devilish grin as he turned on his heel, cheeks, dimples, and all. He came back around and sat down right where Dennis had patted on his lap, which just so happened to be the thigh he had been leaning on anyway. Once he was settled, he leaned back, adjusting his hoodie to lay comfortably on Dennis’ shoulder and crossing his arms across his chest, pressing his face into Dennis’ neck gently. 

“You’re such a brat,” Dennis quipped, moving his arm that was being laid on so he could comfortably hold the book open, “And goddamn are you heavy.” 

“‘m not.” Charlie countered, smiling a little. 

“Yeah? Then what do you call this?” Dennis shifted the book to one hand and used the other to pat the softness of Charlie’s stomach. 

“Den, stop…” Charlie giggled into his neck, lazily squatting at the hand. 

“Yeah, whatever, asshole.” Dennis chuckled, rearranging his arms again to open back up to his page. Charlie looked up at him for a moment longer before fluttering his eyes closed, ready to listen. 

“ _Six, there is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare…_ ” Dennis started, using a low tone. 

Charlie wasn’t so much interested in the content but rather, hearing Dennis read to him. For as much shit as he always gave him for his illiteracy, dyslexia, whatever the hell it may be, sometimes he would still read to him and the experience was always pleasant. So much so that Charlie was put to sleep within minutes, breaths small and calm against Dennis’ neck.

Of course, Dennis had predicted this would happen. However, for once he wasn’t going to be cruel about it, so he just Charlie continue to lay against him, it being too much of a hassle to move him anyway. In fact, Dennis actually laid his cheek against Charlie’s forehead (which was surprisingly soft despite always being covered in grime and wrinkling in confusion). 

He just continued to read until Charlie’s steady breathing put him to sleep too. 


	20. Tainted Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> "I just don't feel like going home, okay?" With charmac 💜💜💖💖💖
> 
> [TW: CSA implied]

_7:32 PM_

_On a Tuesday_

_Philadelphia, PA a long time ago_

“Dude,” Mac yawned, peering over at his shitty old alarm clock that laid on the floor next to his mattress, “It’s getting late... You should be heading home, shouldn’t you?”

The latter half of the sentence made Charlie shudder and freeze in place where he was sitting on the edge of the almost bare mattress. He was worried Mac would say that or Mrs. Mac would tell him to scram, freezing his blood cold. He stared blankly at all of the disheveled piles of clothes and miscellaneous items scattered on Mac’s floor. 

“Charlie?” Charlie couldn’t see his face from the way he was gazing but Mac had raised his brows in concern and propped himself up on an elbow to gently touch his arm. 

“I...” Charlie was drawing a blank. 

Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he couldn’t just go home. But, the words were caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure how to articulate them. Instead, he continued to look away and feel a sensation in several patches of his skin as if they were burning. 

“Is something wrong?” Mac asked, pushing himself into a sitting position and scooting closer. His hand had left Charlie’s arm and yet the feeling still lingered, running goosebumps all across his skin. 

“ **I just... Don’t want to go home, okay?** ” Charlie finally choked out, balling his hands into fists and gripping his jeans. 

“Dude, your mom is going to freak out if you don’t.” Mac reminded him, as if it was a helpful thought. 

Charlie finally looked at him with sad eyes and if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were wet with tears. Charlie bit his lip, contemplating a way to explain exactly why he couldn’t go home, or at least why he feared to. The resolution he came up wasn’t going to make him very comfortable but it was all he could think of, making him sigh. 

He wore over-sized shirts for a reason (which were usually ones he stole from Mac before he could cut the sleeves off them) and now he was going to have to face it. He slowly chucked off his shirt and let it fall into his lap, gripping it as he looked back again. Mac very audibly gasped when he began to take in the bruises that dotted Charlie’s biceps and abdomen as if they were his freckles (the ace bandages around his chest were nothing knew, even though they both knew the danger of them).

Some of the bruises appeared fresh, as if they were from the night before, while a couple were already yellowing. All of them looked like someone had roughly gripped Charlie’s soft skin, hard enough break enough blood vessels to leave a mark. The places where there was clusters of bruises overlaying each other where the places where his skin felt the most on fire. 

“Did your mom---” Mac was cut off by Charlie’s vigorously shaking his head. 

“Then--- _Oh._ ” It took a moment but the recognition finally dawned on Mac. 

Charlie and his mom weren’t the only ones living in their home. To be able to pay the rent, Bonnie had asked her brother, Jack, to move in and help them out, moving him into Charlie’s room. For a few years now, the two had been co-inhabiting the space and now it was only hitting Mac that it wasn’t as peaceful as he thought. 

“How long?” He asked, his stomach dropping, red hot anger growing in the back of his skull simultaneously. 

“A while.” Charlie answered meekly. 

“What does he---” 

“I don’t want to talk about it...” It was clear that Charlie was beginning to get choked up just thinking about it.

“Okay.” Mac conceded, ceasing his questions. 

Charlie began trembling as silence washed over them. Perhaps it was partially from being cold without his shirt on but the tears now forming in his eyes were quite visible, leading Mac to assume they were why he was shaking. Mac just sighed and opened his arms, Charlie slowly falling forward into them. 

Mac kissed his forehead before Charlie pressed his face into Mac’s collarbone, already sniveling. Mac grabbed his poor excuse for a bed sheet and wrapped it around Charlie’s shoulders, drawing him in to wrap his arms around. It was the only comfort he knew he could provide so he just sat and held him for a good while. 

“It’s okay...” He whispered to him at some point. 


	21. Cowboy Scrubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> AU list- meeting at A & E with Charden?

_4:21 AM_

_On a Wednesday_

_Bismarck, North Dakota_

Poor kid. 

Brian Jr. had been sick with the flu for the past few days (of course, during his care week) and at midnight, the fever he had been nursing since a few hours before that had hit 102ºF and he had been crying every since. Dennis really thought he would have run out of tears in the two and a half hours they had been waiting in the lobby but apparently not. 

He was already sleep deprived enough with trying to hold a steady job, missing the one he had back home, and parenting every other week was not helping, especially right now. He knew he had to be strong and alert since Brian was his flesh and blood but neither of those things were helping the bags steadily growing under his eyes. He damn near lulled himself to sleep by rubbing circles onto Brian’s small back. 

“LaFeve?” Someone called, prompting Dennis to open his eyes from his dozing. 

The person who called his name was clad in scrubs that were plain navy bottoms and a top patterned with… Cowboys. Interesting. Dennis had to blink his eyes a few times so that he could properly see that it was not a woman of average height, but rather a small man, with a full beard mind you. 

He let it all sink in a moment before realizing he needed to get up, securing his hold on Brian before doing so. Not to mention, it took a second for his brain to recognize the surname anyway, still very unused to it, despite having to have stuck with it since before Brian was born. 

“Mr. LaFeve?” The nurse smiled, to which Dennis nodded when he finally made his way over. 

The nurse gestured for him to follow, turning too quickly to walk the corridor for Dennis to read his name tag. They walked in silence, the nurse looking over the chart for what felt like a hundred times, coming upon an open room soon enough. The nurse grabbed a marker from a small bin screwed to the door and wrote the last name on the chart onto the whiteboard above the bin, his handwriting an atrocious mess. Dennis just stepped behind him into the room to keep from just writing it himself. 

There were three chairs backed against the wall the door was on, all facing the examination table, so he sat down in the middle one, waiting for the nurse to finally close the ~~[goddamn]~~ door. It still took another full minute for him to do so but he eventually did and came around, leaning against the exam table looking at the chart _again_. 

“Kid’s sick, eh? Now you’re speaking my language.” He chuckled, looking up to see if the joke got received. 

“Pardon me,” Dennis furrowed his brows, “But, what?”

“Oh,” The nurse nervously laughed, “I, uh, usually work with pediatric cases, is what I meant.” 

“Right…” Dennis suspiciously nodded. 

“Charlie, by the way.” The nurse— _Charlie_ — finally told him as he held out his hand, not sure how else to cut the tension. 

“…Brian Sr.” Dennis replied slowly, watching his tongue so he didn’t give his actual name (long story). He removed one hand from Brian Jr. to shake Charlie’s, making Brian Jr. ball his hand around a fist full of his shirt and snivel more. 

“Do you mind if…” Charlie asked, awkwardly holding his arms.

“Alright, but I’ll warn you he’s usually not too happy when anyone other than me or his mother holds him.” Dennis told him, gingerly lifting Brian out of his lap and into Charlie’s hands. 

Charlie was gentle as he settled Brian against his chest, small head resting on his collarbone as he fitted his very freckled arms around his back. Brian instantly began to calm down and his rapid breathing started to slow to a manageable pace, despite the mucus clogging his sinuses. 

“Wow. You’re a miracle-worker.” Dennis complimented, shocked. 

“Babies and little kids just like me, man,” Charlie shrugged, “My sister was quite a few years younger than me so my mom always made me help out, especially when she was hysterical.” 

“Mad kudos.” Dennis nodded, still taken aback and wondering how it was possible. 

“Thanks.” Charlie chuckled, fitting Brian snug into the crook of one arm as he used the other to grab a clean thermometer to slide under the tired boy’s tongue and read his current temperature. 

He had an array of pens in a loop just above the opening of one of his scrub pockets so he shimmied one out and clicked it open, scribbling down the temp as he read it. After he was done, he removed the thermometer and put it back into the cleaning solution with the others, shoving his pen into his pocket and readjusting Brian who was beginning to doze. 

“Where is Dr. Harkness,” He muttered to himself, rocking on his feet a little, “Oh wait. She’s in maternity. Right.” 

“Huh?” Dennis furrowed his eyebrows again, confounded by the minute-long conversation he just watched.

“The doctor, Dr. Harkness, does most of our pediatrics, including the maternity ward. She’s been up there and in NICU for a few hours now but should be coming soon, even though it’s a hell of a run to get down here.” Charlie clairified, eyeing the door a moment. 

“Ah.” Dennis nodded, understanding. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Charlie leaned his back against the medical counter now, continuing to hold Brian to keep him calm. Dennis eyed him in his peripheral vision with curious intent, trying to come up with a conversation piece. 

“I just realized,” He started, “You don’t have a North Dakota accent at all.” 

“Huh,” Charlie looked over to him, meeting his gaze, “Oh, yeah. ‘Cause I’m not from here.”

“Where are you from then?” Dennis interrogated, interest sparked. 

“Philly, born and raised.” Charlie responded. 

“Same here.” Dennis retorted, causing them to both chuckle. 

“What made you come to this desolate hellscape?” It was Charlie’s turn to ask the questions. 

“Long story but basically… I had what I thought was going to be a one night stand with Junior’s mom and I came back to be with them when she told me she was pregnant.” was Dennis’ honest answer. 

“Oh.”

“And you?”

“Shitty life back home so, for whatever reason, I thought the job opportunity out here would be a good thing.” Charlie sighed. 

“Guess we’re both trapped here, huh?” 

“Yup…” 

Just then, Dr. Harkness opened the door, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from her forehead. 

“Didya run?” Charlie asked, deadpan, looking over at her. 

“Yup…” She nodded, stepping in. 

“Dr. Harkness.” She greeted Dennis, holding out her clammy hand, which he shook despite the wetness of sweat. 

“So?” She questioned, turning her attention back to Charlie. 

“Flu. 104 fever.” He told her. 

“That’s it?”

“Yeah?” He raised a brow, readjusting Brian against his hip. 

“You made me run all that way just to tell you to give him zanamivir?” Dr. Harkness rubbed her temples. 

“Sara, you’re the doctor here. I needed your OK before I told him that.” Charlie countered.

“You’re lucky you’re my favorite.”

“Hah! As if!” Charlie shook his head, laughing nonetheless.

Dennis was trying to stifle his chuckling the entire time he watched the exchange. Both seemed like real characters, especially when put together. 

“Right… Come with me. I’ll write down the name of what you’re looking for. It’s over the counter so it should be simple enough to find.” Dr. Harkness said towards Dennis, gesturing for him to follow her back to the lobby. 

He stood up quickly, momentarily stretching his limbs. Charlie met him halfway, handing over the now sleeping Brian Jr. They both tried to ignore the spark they felt when their hands accidentally touched again, having done so the first time too. 

“I’ll see you around?” Dennis smiled over his shoulder, waiting a moment before stepping out. 

“Uh. Yeah. Of course.” Charlie swallowed, trying to fight the blush he felt coming. Dennis nodded and began to follow the doctor out.

Charlie loitered in the doorway, flustered and awestruck as he watched Dennis’ wake. 


	22. Physically in Florida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> "I dont know where I am" + charmac

## 1:42 PM

## On a Sunday

## Sanford, FL

This entire trip had been a very, very bad idea. 

The entire state of Florida was a literal hell hole and everyone was regretting being talked into coming. Sure, Mac and Dennis had properly signed away their timeshare directly after buying it but shit always came back to bite them in the ass. In this case, for whatever goddamn reason, executives had offered Frank a full expenses paid trip with anyone he wanted to bring in exchange for some money for whatever scheme they had going for the I-4 eyesore and its accompanying stretch of hellish highway. 

Which is how they all ended up at the Seminole Towne Center. How Frank had convinced everyone to let him driving them to different spots all over the state, none of them knew, but right now they were in their stop to the greater Orlando area. This was the only mall for a good while until you hit downtown Orlando so they all figured they may as well see what it had in store. 

Their journey started in the Dick’s Sporting Goods, everyone sneering at all the items for their own separate reasons. Frank took up the lead, the twins directly behind him, leaving Mac to bob his head between their shoulders to see anything ahead of them, Charlie having a tight grasp on the back of his shirt with his eyes cast to the floor. They all momentarily gaped at the display boats parked outside a giant window, reminding them of the time they decided it was a good idea to buy a boat. 

Near that part of the store, there was a giant fish tank with a taxidermied bear atop the built up rock-wall. Charlie wrinkled his nose at it until he walked a few more steps and became fascinated with all of the fish, spanning from red-fish to bass, stopping dead in his tracks. He stood there a minute until Mac circled back around and gently grabbed his hand, dragging him back to the group so they could enter the actual mall. 

Where they came in at was atop the second floor, having openings in the middle where you could see down to all the people below, egging Charlie’s curiosity every time they walked past. Each time, of course, Mac came back around and had to gingerly coax him along. After walking a few storefronts down, each gang member realized there was a different store on this level that they each wanted to go into, causing them all to split up.

Frank had sworn he saw an Asian massage place when he had glanced at the first floor, scrambling to get down the escalator so he could get there quick enough to work out a cheap deal off the already low prices. Dennis had caught wind of a Dillard’s and was interested to see if there was any swindling for nice quality clothes that he could do in there. Dee had smelt some strong smells coming from a Bath & Bodyworks, wanting to see if they had any of her favorite perfumes and creams in stock, thinking of hitting the Victoria’s Secret on the way out. 

That left Mac and Char— Or, not. Seemingly, Charlie had taken off while Mac wasn’t paying attention, meaning something had sparked his intrigue. Mac just sighed and stood there, trying to figure out what direction his gut was telling him to go in. Right now, it was craving coffee so he decided to take the short trip down to the Boston Coffeehouse on the lower level. The entire time he nursed what they called an “Irish Eyes R’ Smilin’” (which he got based solely on the name and use of Irish cream), he pondered where Charlie could have run off to.

The little man hadn’t seemed interested in literally anything but the fish and the view to the lower court, probably due to his travel anxiety killing him any time they were in the car and just the general anxiety of being somewhere new (which was definitely not helped by being in Florida of all places). Mac sighed again, setting his mug down, sitting back into the leather couch covered in American-themed pillows which he had taken to after ordering. 

He had started dozing off sitting there but was startled by his phone suddenly ringing.

“Charlie?” He croaked, looking at the Caller ID the second he picked it up.

“ _MAC!_ ” Charlie happily exclaimed on the other land. 

“Where’d you even go?” Mac yawned, sitting forward to peer into his mug and see if there was any coffee left. 

“ _I’m going to be real with you, man._ ** _I don’t know where I am._** _I’ve been wandering for like fifteen minutes now._ ” Charlie responded, sounding a bit concerned.

“Where are you near, then?” Mac asked, trying to get a gauge of how far he was going to need to walk to find him.

The other line was silent for a few moments until Charlie shouted, “ _Food court!_ ” 

“Great,” Mac smiled, “Then stay put and I’ll be up there in a few minutes. And don’t order anything because I know you wasted all your money trying to get candy at the last mall.”

“ _Whatever, man…_ ” Charlie scoffed, not wanting to admit it. 

Mac just shook his head and hung up, getting to his feet and nearly running out just to find the nearest escalator. He was impatient the entire [short] ride, hoping that Charlie had actually listened to him. He was glad to see he had, Charlie ogling at a pirate theme bar right in the middle of the court. 

“Hey, bud.” Mac greeted, sliding his arm around Charlie’s waist as he stepped closer.

“Hey…” Charlie softly replied, still too enthralled with the bar, snaking his arm around Mac’s shoulders. 

“Can we do something like this at the bar? It might bring in more customers.” He suggested, having finally processed all of the visual information and meeting Mac’s eye.

Mac just chuckled at him. 


	23. Sweet Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> "You're emoting!" With charden

_9:36 PM_

_On a Monday_

_Philadelphia, PA_

“Hey, Den.” Charlie offhand greeted, having only glanced over to Dennis while walking into the bar. 

Dennis was sat on a barstool as the far end, near the back office, and was somberly staring down at his glass. He had been glad to be alone, able to take some time to himself and probably drink until he blacked out (or more so browned out). Now, Charlie was ruining it by impeding his solitude and quiet drinking. 

Dennis, of course, didn’t offer a pleasantry back, blankly looking up at him. Charlie was scurrying around, presumably trying to find something, too distracted to notice the hollow look on Dennis’ face. As he shuffled his way down to Dennis’ end of the bar, scrambling through the lower shelf, he finally caught sight of it. 

“Woah, what’s up with this, dude?” He asked, furrowing his brows slightly.

He began to reach his hand up with cup Dennis’ cheek and wipe away one of tears settled upon it but Dennis swatted his hand away. Charlie stepped back and threw his hands up defensively, startled. Now it was Dennis’ turn to knit his eyebrows together, wondering why Charlie had reacted so starkly. 

“You’re… **You’re emoting** , dude…” Charlie choked out softly, lowering his hands but keeping himself pressed against the cabinet. 

“Shut up, man…” Dennis half growled, wiping his eyes with the side of his hand and pulled the napkin from under his glass to wipe his nose with a little dignity. 

Charlie just nodded and kept his distance. They held each other’s gaze for a good minute, only broken by Dennis swirling the ice around his drink in the middle of it. Charlie kept the doe in the headlights look on his face through the entirety of it. 

“What’s with the look,” Dennis questioned, confused by the fear behind it, “And the stance?”

“I’m scared you’re gonna hit me again, man!” Charlie admitted, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“I’m not going to hit you, I promise…” Dennis sighed, putting out his hand as a peace offering. 

Charlie swallowed before stepping forward, declining the offering by placing his hands on the edge of the bar top. Dennis huffed as he retracted his hand and crossed it with his other arm. Charlie was curiously eyeing his drink in the meantime.

“What’s that?” He finally asked, licking his bottom lip, Dennis noting how pink it was.

“Hennessy.” He replied, watching the interest quickly fade as Charlie sneered, wrinkling his nose.

“Straight hennessy?”

“Yeah?”

“Gross.” Charlie stuck out his tongue but still made a move to grab the glass for a sip anyway. 

When Dennis began to raise his hand again, he jolted and took half a step back, biting his lip as the promise was half broken. Dennis sighed away and pulled his hand down, still looking at him sternly. 

“Don’t call it gross then immediately go to take a sip, asshat.” He chided, offering the glass regardless. 

“…Sorry.” Charlie whined as he took it and gulped down a sip, reminded how unpleasant an alcohol it was when drank straight. 

Dennis rolled his eyes as the glass was set down, flickering them down a moment to see the way Charlie’s hand was delicately wrapped around it. Charlie was searching his face for any lingering emotion, none seeming to appear. He didn’t seem too bothered by it as he finally cupped the sides of Dennis’ face and kissed the corner of his mouth, just to get any sort of rise out of him. 

“Ew, nasty…” Dennis scrunched his nose and forehead in tangent, still smiling anyway.

“Shut up,” Charlie chuckled, kissing the side of his nose, “You like it.”


	24. Charmac Unsolved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:   
> Charmac spending the night in a v haunted house???

_2:34 AM_

_On a Monday_

_San Jose, CA_

“Hnnghhhh…” Charlie whined on the other side of the room. 

He had been moaning like that for at least fifteen minutes now and, for as much as he loved him, Mac wanted to smack him in the face with his pillow. This entire thing was Charlie’s idea in the first place.

Here’s the rundown: The gang had flown out to California for a small vacation, trying to finally make up for their Jersey Shore disaster. Everyone was ready to hit the beach and not get radiation poisoning or watch two bums bangin’ it out under a bridge. Of course, they had accidentally replaced all of their bottles of sunblock except for one with vodka and all turned red by the end of that first day (Charlie drank the entire thing of real sunblock and only his mouth didn’t get burnt because of it). 

After that, they decided to split off respectively and go see things they each wanted to see, trying not to pick at their skin the whole time. Which is how Mac and Charlie had made it all the way out to San Jose on Frank’s dollar, trying to spend a night in the infamous Winchester House. They had seen it on a brochure and after Mac at read the info aloud, Charlie’s eyes lit up with excitement, begging him to go so they could ghoul hunt. 

That excitement faded, of course, the moment they stepped into the house. All of his hairs stood up and his arms were covered in goosebumps beneath his green jacket. The energy surrounding the entire house made him feel cold to the bone and made him admittedly a little nauseous. 

‘Dude, you’re the one who wanted to do this. No backing out now.’ Mac had told him, not putting his nausea at any ease. 

It was daylight when they had come in with all of the other tourists but eventually they were the only ones remaining and the light began to fade. The more the light disappeared, the more anxious Charlie felt and the less he wanted to spy around the house for little green ghouls. They had ordered a pizza for dinner but he hardly ate any of it, despite the extra cheese. 

‘Come on, man, it’s one night,’ Mac tried to reassure him, ‘You’ll probably sleep through anything happening anyway.’

Clearly not. 

They had gone to bed around 11:30-11:35, warm in their sleeping bags as they laid across the room from each other, and Charlie hadn’t gotten a second of sleep since. The wave of nausea from earlier had returned and his dislike of the dark was not helped by seeing questionable outlines and silhouettes of shadows dancing on the walls. All of this combined was what had him groaning and grumbling.

Mac had turned away from him a long while ago but was now on the verge of sitting up and saying something. He decided on the latter.

“Charlie, if you don’t shut up, for all that is holy on earth, I will smother you…” He barked, rolling over to face Charlie and propping himself up on his elbow. 

Charlie half rolled off his back, just enough to be able to see Mac and meet his gaze. His eyes were glassy from the fear and he was chewing his lip, making it raw enough to nearly start bleeding. Mac just sighed and reached his arm out as far as he could, hoping Charlie could grasp it enough to mutually tug themselves together. 

Charlie’s hand was clammy but he manged to snake it into Mac’s and they equally pulled, wrapping his arms around Mac’s neck when they were close enough. Mac put his arms around him, rubbing circles on his back, wondering what the millions of possibilities of things running through Charlie’s mind were. Charlie laid their cheeks against one another and Mac could feel his soft cheek squish as he softly smiled. 

“Mac?” Charlie said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Mac picked his head up, cupping the opposite side of Charlie’s face, and gingerly kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Me too.”


	25. Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> the sweatshop thing with mac trying to get charlie to act full dog and mac giving charlie orders that’s just to cuddle

“Oh, _Charlie~_ ” Mac cooed in a sing-song tone. 

Charlie looked up from the dress he was working on, ignoring the pain in his fingertips, and fluttered his eyelashes to go along with his dumbfounded look. Mac was grinning at him from the front of the room and waving his hand to gesture him forward. Charlie obeyed, a thought of turning his sewing machine off flickering across his mind but he spared no mind for it.

“You ready to go home?” Mac asked, to which Charlie nodded, trying to not let his fatigue get to him. 

“Alright, go put that dress in the pile and we’ll go.” 

Charlie did as he was told, still in the complete mode of being like a puppy. He set his half finished dress among the others, turned off his machine, made sure he had everything, and took of his glasses slipping one leg of them over his shirt collar. He met Mac up front, who slipped the bandana off his head, ruffling and petting his hair like you would a dog. Charlie just smiled. 

They walked all the way to Mac’s apartment, Mac aimlessly talking about anything and everything, Charlie zoning in and out of listening. When they got to the apartment, they ordered Chinese food, Charlie volunteering to sort out their plates once it arrived. Mac had no qualms with that so he sat back on the couch and watched, not paying attention to the shitty program on TV.

They were both surprised that Dennis wasn’t home but still ate their meal in pleasant silence, inattentively watching a show for a minute before clicking over a channel anyway. When they finished, Charlie was the one getting up to put their plates away, once again voluntarily. Mac searched through the bright white plastic bag, digging for the fortune cookies, the crinkling noise making Charlie turn his head. 

He began to stride back over after rinsing the plates and forks but Mac held up his hand to stop him before he could sit, having an idea in mind. 

“I’ll feed you a cookie and read you your fortune if you cuddle me for the rest of the night.” Mac offered, brows raised and lips pulled into a smirk. 

Charlie nodded, sitting down with a thump and wrapping his arms around Mac’s waist, placing his head on his shoulder. Mac fiddled with the plastic wrapper a moment and broke the cookie in half once he managed to open it. He popped said half into Charlie’s mouth, who dutifully started chewing, and released the paper from the other half. Charlie opened his mouth when he was done and Mac complied, placing the other half inside then straightening the paper. 

“‘The love of your life will appear in front of you unexpectedly!’,” Mac read aloud, genuinely reading what the paper said, “Hilarious.” 

“What if they’re already there?” Charlie asked softly, not having talked much in hours. 

“Hmm?” Mac looked at him and tilted his head in confusion.

Charlie quietly exhaled through his before leaning forward and just barely meeting their lips. He drew back quickly in fear of Mac getting disgusted with him but he barely reacted for a minute. Once it processed, Mac crashed their lips together in a better formed kiss, noses crashed together but not enough to hurt either of them. 

“Then I guess it means that…” He chuckled in reply once he pulled back. 


	26. Art Room Glue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> charmac high from huffing stuff and making out in the janitor’s closet at school
> 
> [TW: drugs & vaguely NSFW]

Three knocks. 

Three knocks in less than rapid succession meant that Mac had secured the goods. They were in school so there wasn’t many goods they could actually find to huff but boys will be boys. And really only these two would be idiots enough to be constantly getting high off glue. 

Charlie pushed up off the floor to unlock the door, already giggling to himself. Mac stepped into the janitor’s closet they had decided to hide out in with a brown paper bag in hand and several glue bottles beneath his arms. Charlie’s smile upon seeing it was infectious, making Mac grin as well. 

Charlie sat first and leaned his back against the metal storage shelving, crossing his legs. Mac twisted off the cap of the first bottle immediately and began pouring it into the bag, focused in, not paying attention to the way Charlie bit his lip. Mac managed to get out pretty much all of the glue and took the first hit with a deep inhale. 

He exhaled with a melodious hum and passed the bag over, Charlie eager to get in on that. After his hit, he wrinkled his nose, unimpressed.

“You found the weak shit again, bro.” He chided, shaking his head and shoving the bag back into Mac’s hands. 

“What? No I didn’t!” Mac retorted, offended. 

“This is just regular ass school glue, dude,” Charlie countered, briefly glancing at the empty bottle (he couldn’t make out the words too well but he knew the pictures pretty good by that point), “Not good enough to get high off of.”

“Fine, you find something for us to huff then.” Mac huffed, sticking out his lip to pout and crossing his arms. 

Charlie was up off the floor once again, scanning all of the bottles amongst the shelves. It took him a minute but he eventually found what he recognized to be bleach and half climbed the shelving to grab it. Mac got to his knees just to be safe, not knowing if Charlie was going to slip or not. 

Charlie fervently popped off the cap as he sat in his same spot and took a big whiff, partially to reaffirm that it was indeed bleach, exhaling a happy sigh. It was very much bleach and was already giving him a nice high, Mac snatching the jug from him so he could do the same. Then they began a cycle of passing it back and forth until their brains were so hazy they had to put it off to the side. 

They sat in a comfortable silence, filled with the noise of their deep, relaxed breathing, lazily looking around the small closet. Charlie had his head back against a shelf but he started slightly hallucinating, sitting up straight as he squinted trying to figure out if the cat with its nails dug into the wall opposite him was real or not. In trying to move closer to get a better look, he lost control of his body entirely, face-planting right into Mac’s lap. 

“Dude…” Mac half whined, scooping Charlie’s face to pull it from his lap.

Their gazes idly met after a second and they stared as each other before meeting their lips halfway. Mac, unsurprisingly, was the one to push more and deepen it, meeting only a little resistance. Charlie hooked one of his legs onto Mac’s hip, giving Mac the vantage point to essentially pull him into his lap and lean him back, arching his own back. 

Charlie started grasping at his neck and its nape, trying to pull himself ever closer, beginning to hook his other leg onto Mac’s other hip. Mac knew from previous [experimental] make-out sessions that Charlie wasn’t big into having another tongue in his mouth so he kept it back but still kept gaping and pressing their mouths into other positions than seconds before. 

After a few minutes, his hands wandered to Charlie’s ass, making Charlie moan into his mouth, Mac momentarily smiling over it. Too caught up in all of the energy and the high, Mac slotted his leg perfectly under Charlie, moving it slightly, wanting to create some friction. Because of it, Charlie made a noise caught between a whine and a yelp, making Mac open his eyes suddenly. 

“Mac…” Charlie squeaked, visibly uncomfortable given the way his face was scrunched. 

“Right, right,” Mac responded, immediately remembering that that was a _bad_ area, “Sorry.”

“’s okay…” Charlie reassured him, allowing himself to be shifted so he wouldn’t end up bothered again. 

Mac finally sat back, pulling Charlie with him and making sure he wouldn’t hit his head, looking to him with fluttering eyelashes and an almost sad glance. Charlie remained straddling over his hips and decided to pepper little kisses all over his face. As he had his weight shift more to one leg, the other felt something begin to press against it, prompting him to look down. 

“Do you want to me to…?” He asked nearly inaudibly, moving a hand to ghost around the hard object. 

“If you wouldn’t mind…” Mac peeped, face flushing a bright pink.

Charlie just nodded and began to fiddle with Mac’s button.


	27. Cold Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charmac requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> "I was looking everywhere for you" with charmac

Mac’s hand was freezing.

It was freezing from the chilled air outside. It was freezing compared to the warmth of Charlie’s stomach. It was freezing as though his current worry had chilled him to the bone and his skin was just reflecting that. 

It was so freezing that Charlie chirped like a cat as the hand lightly touched the bit of his stomach exposed from the way his shirt and hoodie had ridden up, immediately waking him from his sleazy nap. 

His arms had been folded behind his head, under his hoodie, but now they stretched outwards as his body accommodated to being awake again. he roughly sniffed, trying to pull back the mucus clogging his nose which had caused him to snore, but utterly failed, grumbling. His head _was_ thrown in the direction of the back couch cushions but Mac stood above him from the other side so he had to turn it that way. 

It took a minute for the film glossing over his eyes to disappear so he could get a proper look at Mac. Mac was very much awake, unlike himself, and chewing his lip as his eyes continuously glanced over the way Charlie’s body was contorted on the couch. His eyes, Charlie assumed, were flooded with concern and his hands were rubbing together nervously. They only stopped when Mac took notice that he was actually awake and his expression turned a bit more agitated. 

“What the hell, man?” He asked, voice nearly angry but it faltered throughout.

“Hm?” Charlie just blinked at him, once again trying to get his eyes to focus.

“ **I was looking everywhere for you** , dude.” Mac explained, too defeated to keep up the irritated act. 

“Why?” Charlie questioned, completely out of it between sleeping and being half-ass sick (not to mention the throbbing beginning to grow again in his head and _lower_ region).

“Because, asshat, I was worried about you,” Mac huffed, crossing his arms, “You didn’t come into work. And even though we don’t really have a scheme going right now, it would have been nice to know where you were.”

“‘m sorry…” Charlie yawned, half covering his mouth. 

“I felt kinda out of it when I woke up… Then my _you know_ started hurting really bad so I just ended up passing out on the couch.” He continued, trying to justify himself. 

Mac just sighed and squatted, taking Charlie’s hand that was now resting on his still exposed tummy and rubbing his thumb over it.

“‘s okay… Just let us know next time, alright?” He conceded, too fixated on their hands to look up. 

He caught Charlie’s nod out of his [poor] peripheral vision prompting him to actually look up. Charlie’s cheek was squished as his drew his lips together tight, dimple heavily exposed, dark eyelashes covering the top half of his bright green irises. Not knowing what else to do, he picked up his arms, including the one where Mac was still rubbing his hand, and was inaudibly offering a sort of hug. 

Mac moved over and wrapped his arms right under Charlie’s, resting his head on his chest. Charlie had been good for once and actually taken off his binder before he went to bed the night before, meaning his chest was exposed under the layers, making for a nice pillow. While having his chest out in any circumstance wasn’t the most comfortable, he was at least glad that Mac was making good use of it right now. 

He then tightened his arms around Mac, quietly holding him. 


	28. Get Ready With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie-centric drabble requested by tumblr user Theentiregdtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theentiregdtime's prompt:  
> no pressure cause i know you're swamped with prompts but would love to see what you think charlie's morning routine is like! 🌼

**4:15 AM**

As much as he does not want to be awake right now, he is and it’s all Frank’s fault. 

(’Dude, I told you not to drink so many mimosas after all that pizza and garlic knots.’ ‘I know you did, Chawlie, I know.’)

Too fed up with Frank’s heartburn thrashing, he announces that he’s crawling into the Crevice, much to Frank’s despair, and does so promptly. It’s nice and snug between those worn couch cushions so his goose bumps from the blanket having been ripped away earlier fade quickly and he’s back to light snoring in no time. 

**9:56 AM**

He wakes up with a hazy head (from all of the drinking the night before, of course) and sees stars flooding the outside of his vision as he sits up too quickly. Well, sits up to the best of his ability given the contortion of the couch cushions. 

Uncomfortable with the way he’s sat already, he climbs out and flops onto the still pulled out mattress. Frank seems to have vacated an hour or two before so he had the bed and apartment to himself for a bit. Settling towards the back of the bed, he leans back and begins to rub his stomach where it’s expose from his sleep shirt riding up, trying to rid himself of the nauseous feeling starting to grow between the low-key hangover and sloshing the content of his stomach around by moving so much (not to mention mentally cataloging his current softness level). 

Though it’s just shy of 10 AM, he knows the guys are coming soon and he doesn’t want Dennis bitching at him so he waits another moment for his stomach to settle before getting up to change. It’s a Friday so he hopes he has a decently clean outfit somewhere in their clothes piles that he can easily shuck off once they get to work so he can clean himself up. As he gets up, he stretches his arms over his head while letting out a yawn big enough to pop his jaw a little, making him rub it a moment after closing his mouth. 

He sighs before opening their daunting closet, crouching to better sort through their disheveled heaps. It’s essentially organized chaos in there, I assure you. Everything it piled by item, Charlie’s half of the space having t-shirts with t-shirts, jeans with jeans, and so on. His Magna shirt smells halfway decent and so do the jeans beside it with a huge rip in the knee (he said a while ago that he’d fix it at some point but still hasn’t gotten around to it). His green jacket and MacGregor hoodie seem just as dirty so he decides against bringing either, wondering where the hell his track jacket was.

He nearly forgets to find a pair of boxer-briefs that currently hold the title of least dingy so he has to open the dreaded door again and scour for them. He promises himself that he’ll get around to washing a majority of their clothes this weekend but everyone knows he won’t. Right on top of those faded blue boxers, he finds his binder which he had haphazardly doffed and thrown in there once they got home the night before, ribs aching from wearing it too long. If his hoodie was cleaner, he could go the day without wearing it but alas, it was not. At least his secret stash of money stolen off Frank mixed with money from working has grown enough to almost be able to fund top surgery in the near future. 

He drops the selection of clothes onto the bed and starts his clothes removal routine. He starts with his socks, back hurting as he arched it to bend and pull them off by the toe (at least he could reach his toes, unlike Mac). He should have kept the closet door open to chuck everything in there as he went along but he’d manage. Next comes his shirt, pausing a second to rub his sore ribs and chest, placing his binder in its place afterward. Once it’s adjusted as comfortably as possible, off come the long-johns, placed vicariously on top of the discarded socks and shirt. He hesitates a minute, reluctant to change his current pair of underwear but knows it would be for the best, especially once he “”showered”” so they were replaced as swiftly as he could manage so he won’t be exposed long. 

Now that that’s done, he easily slips on the chosen jeans, biting his lip and holding his breath like he always does while buttoning them. He had figured they would still fit but he knows he fluctuated weight so much that sometimes it was questionable. He places the waistband comfortably below his jutting hips and pulls his shirt over his head, pulling it outwards a bit so it didn’t cling so harshly to his torso. All that’s left to do figure out where his shoes went.

They have a tendency to get separated at opposite ends of the room, which is where he finds them. Only then does it click that he’s worn all of his ankle cut socks this week so he gets creative and slips his sleep socks back on, not that anyone would know the difference anyway. With socks and shoes secured on his feet, he whirls around, double-checking that he has everything, clothes-wise at least. 

**10:24 AM**

The only reason he thinks to look for his phone, which is something he needs to take with him, is because it’s ringing in some nondescript spot in the hell he calls an apartment. It’s, apparently, placed on the “kitchen” table under an open package of bread that’s bound to go bad soon. He has no idea how it got there but still picks it up and answers anyway. 

‘Yo.’

‘Hurry up, dude. We’re here already.’ Dennis huffs on the other line. 

‘Okay, okay.’ He responds, throwing his free hand up defensively though Dennis can’t see it. 

Neither are sure who actually hung up first but they each want to say themselves. Either way, he puts the phone into the front pocket of his jeans and does a triple-check to see if he needs anything else. He guesses he could shove some of his miscellaneous change into his other front pocket, cursing himself for not having a proper wallet anyway or, hell, even a change pouch thing. He really hopes the guys will agree to get coffee because he’s suddenly craving it and he knows it’ll melt away the icky hangover feeling that’s already mostly on the back burner. 

He finds his keys on the floor by the door and picks them up, using them to lock up as he slips into the hall From there, he makes his way down several flights of stairs and out to the street where the green Range Rover is waiting. As he gets in, Mac immediately prompts him on his opinion about the stupid argument they had been having all morning. 

It’s **10:38 AM** by now and feels just like another day. 


	29. Couch of Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> Just - Charden cuddling for some reason?

“Nooooo…” Charlie tiredly called, swatting Dennis’ hand that was petting his stomach.

They had come back to Dennis’ apartment a few hours before, Charlie immediately exchanging his jeans for long-johns since he wanted to be as comfortable as possible. After that, he and Dennis settled on the couch, Dennis sat up and Charlie laying with his head on the arm of the couch and his legs over Dennis’ lap.

He had thrown on his hoodie at the same time as his long-johns, feeling a chill in the apartment, and as he laid on the couch, the hood hung over the edge, one arm folded on top of it. Dennis was half paying attention to what was on TV, lazily watching Charlie as he dozed off. As he did, he rubbed circles into the side of his thigh using his thumb, temporarily moving his hand up to pat the patch of Charlie’s stomach that poked out.

After successfully swatting away the hand, Charlie curled inwards on himself like a startled cat. Dennis chuckled at his reflex and shook his head slightly as Charlie was going back into his half-asleep state. While the couch was decently comfortable, they both knew that a bed was much nicer to fall asleep and stay asleep on.

“Charlie, if you’re going to just sleep, then let’s at least go to bed.” Dennis suggested, squeezing Charlie’s knee.

Charlie blinked at him with hazy eyes and sat up, leaning heavily on him with his head on Dennis’ shoulder. Dennis just softly sighed and wrapped his arms around Charlie’s torso, Charlie loosely wrapping his arms around his neck. Dennis somehow managed to push himself off the couch, Charlie hanging off him like a sloth on a branch, legs half catching onto his waist.

He was glad Charlie wasn’t that heavy or he wouldn’t have made it the few feet to his bedroom. It took some coaxing but Charlie eventually let go of him and crawled onto the bed, laying flat on his back with his hands resting on his abdomen. Dennis made sure to turn off the living room lights and everything was in order before he laid down himself, laying on his back as well and snaking his arm under Charlie’s shoulders.

In the middle of the night, Charlie rolled onto his side as his spine began to hurt but Dennis was unphased and gladly accepted the subsequent arms wrapping around him.


	30. Sick Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charden requested by an anonymous user

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon's prompt:  
> charden getting high together in how mac got fat
> 
> [TW: drugs / getting high]

“Dude, aren’t your arms tired from those wicked dance moves?” Dennis asked softly as Charlie began to slow down, high slowly wearing off.

“Hm,” Charlie blinked at him as the question sunk in, “Oh, yeah. A bit.”

“Then sit.” Dennis smiled, patting the open space on the desk.

Charlie nodded and sat down, placing his hands behind him and leaning back. Dennis turned the chair to face him, meeting his gaze as he did. He stared for a moment before reaching all the way up to move the strands of hair sticking to Charlie’s forehead with sweat, hid more rational side slowly beginning to poke out again.

Because Charlie’s head was so far away, it caused him to stand up to move the hair, prompting them to meet face-to-face as he did. Charlie blinked at him once again but made no effort to report a qualm about it. In fact, he moved his own hand up to run it through Dennis’ darkened hair and cup his cheek.

“‘Diz it hurt?” He questioned, running his thumb over a bit of chemical burned skin.

“'Little.” Dennis admitted but still leaned his face into the hand.

He closed his eyes and let Charlie continue to stroke his cheek, right near his eye, probably purring if he were a cat. After a few moments, Charlie leaned in a little and pressed their foreheads together, not entirely sure why but then again he was still a bit high out of his mind. Dennis could only bear it a few moments before tilting his head to catch his lips.

They were too focused on their touching lips and gentle grabbing at each other to notice if anyone was opening the office door or not.


End file.
